MRS.  BRAND 


H.A.MITCHELL  KEAYS 


309E 


OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  AHGELBS 


MRS.  BRAND 


MRS.  BRAND 


A  NOVEL 


By  H.   A.   MITCHELL  KEAYS 

Author  of  "The  Road  to  Damascus,"   "He  that  Eateth 
Bread  with  Me"  "The  Marriage  Portion,"  etc. 


BOSTON 

SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1913 

By  SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
(Incorporated) 


MRS.  BRAND 


MRS.  BRAND 


CHAPTER  I 

IT  was  growing  cold.  Mr.  Overholt  felt  the 
bleakness  of  the  wind  on  his  face,  and  he  buttoned 
his  coat  more  closely  about  him,  as  he  left  his 
house  and  swung  down  the  street.  He  was  feel- 
ing at  his  best  to-night.  Hope  and  ambition  gen- 
erally run  high  in  the  young  man,  and  he  was 
a  young  man  with  hope  and  ambition  at  least  tem- 
porarily satisfied.  He  had  attained  the  position 
he  had  sought,  and  yet  he  had  succeeded  by  the 
most  simple  means  in  accomplishing  what  older 
and  honored  men  had  wrecked  their  dignity  in 
a  vain  attempt  to  acquire.  To  be  sure,  he  was  on 
a  three  months'  trial,  as  it  were,  but  with  the 
result  of  two  Sundays  behind  him  he  had  no  doubt 
as  to  his  complete  giving  of  satisfaction. 

He  had  laid  his  plans  well.    And  he  had  car- 


2  MRS.    BRAND 

ried  them  out  as  well  as  he  had  laid  them.  From 
the  very  day  that  he  had  read  in  his  village  weekly 
of  the  death  of  Dr.  Marvin  of  Glenedge,  he  had 
made  as  strategical  an  attack  on  the  dead  man's 
shoes  as  it  was  possible  to  conceive.  The  intro- 
duction of  his  name  to  the  supply  committee  by 
a  brother  minister,  who  had  been  tried  and  found 
wanting,  had  put  him  in  touch  with  his  goal,  and 
the  rest  had  been  comparatively  easy.  A  trip  to 
Chicago  and  Glenedge,  a  frank  statement  of  his 
plans  to  the  committee,  and  a  carefully  planned 
although  seemingly  extemporaneous  address  at 
their  prayer-meeting,  which  had  created  an  instant 
impression,  had  been  followed  by  a  conversation 
with  the  great  man  of  the  church,  a  wholesale 
merchant  in  the  city,  a  Mr.  Brand.  Mr.  Overholt 
had  not  been  surprised  by  the  invitation  extended 
to  him,  and  he  had  accepted  with  a  gravity  that 
was  a  mask  only  to  a  triumphal  surge  of  feeling, 
which  lent  him  a  most  captivating  animation. 

But  he  had  delighted  in  the  surprise  he  had 
given  his  wife  upon  his  return  home.  He  had 
called  her  to  him,  and  she  had  hurried  over  to  him 
with  quick  eagerness,  and,  sinking  down  on  a  foot- 


MRS.    BRAND  S 

stool  beside  him,  had  leaned  her  head  against  his 
knee  with  a  timid  happiness  that  he  divined.  His 
eye  traversed  her  frail  figure  and  dwelt  upon  her 
thin,  tiny  hands  with  a  certain  satisfaction. 
Strangers  could  not  deny  the  extreme  delicacy  of 
her  appearance,  and  it  was  not  needful  that  one 
should  say  more  than  that  it  had  been  character- 
istic of  her  even  when  her  health  was  better.  He 
had  softly  stroked  her  hair  as  he  told  her  of  his 
trip,  and  the  exultation  in  his  voice  was  answered 
by  a  glowing  happiness  that  made  her  radiant. 

"  I'm  so  glad  for  you " 

He  had  cut  her  off. 

"  It  will  be  better  for  you,"  he  had  interjected. 
"  Oh,  of  course  there's  nothing  the  matter  with 
you,  and  the  doctors  in  Chicago  are  worse  than  the 
one  here.  Well,  we  won't  argue  about  it.  And 
I  don't  have  to  resign  here,"  he  had  added  with  an 
easy  laugh.  "  The  Glenedge  church  pays  its  sup- 
plies pretty  heavily,  and  I  can  fill  in  easily  with 
some  fellow  during  my  absence." 

Now,  a  few  weeks  later,  he  was  on  his  way  to 
the  Brand  mansion  as  an  invited  guest.  "  I  expect 
Mrs.  Brand  home  from  a  visit  to-morrow,  and  you 


4  MRS.    BRAND 

had  better  come  in  and  take  dinner  with  us  and 
a  nephew  of  ours,  Dr.  Challoner,"  Mr.  Brand  had 
said.  "  We  can  talk  over  church  matters  a  little. 
I  wish  Mrs.  Overholt  could  come,  too,"  he  added, 
kindly. 

"  Yes,  it  is  too  bad.  But  the  necessary  upset 
in  coming  to  Glenedge  has  prostrated  her,  and  she 
must  have  perfect  quiet." 

As  the  servant  ushered  him  across  the  wide, 
beautiful  hall  into  the  drawing-room,  the  minister 
experienced  a  thrill  of  kinship  with  his  surround- 
ings that  affected  him  deliciously.  After  the  arid 
monotony  of  recent  years  —  this  was  life.  The 
satin  draperies  were  crushed  aside,  and  his  hand 
hospitably  grasped  by  that  of  his  host,  who  led 
him  into  a  room  that  seemed  to  shimmer  in  amber- 
hued  radiance. 

"  You're  just  on  time.  I  see  you're  a  punctual 
man,  like  myself,"  said  Mr.  Brand,  cordially. 
"  My  dear,"  he  added,  turning  towards  a  lady 
who  sat  beside  the  hearth  listlessly  watching  the 
flames.  Mrs.  Brand  rose  up,  slowly,  indifferently. 
Another  one  of  the  endless  chain  of  ministers! 
She  stepped  forward,  her  hand  politely  extended 


MRS.    BRAND  5 

to  her  husband's  guest.  But  her  proud  eyes  met 
his  only  for  a  moment,  and  then,  though  the  com- 
posure of  her  face  was  apparently  unstirred,  she 
found  herself  in  her  chair  again  with  the  sluggish 
current  of  her  life  lashed  into  mad  motion  by 
unexpected  revelation.  There  was  a  blur  of  voices 
in  her  ears,  a  black  dance  in  her  eyes;  her  heart 
seemed  gripped  by  fingers  of  steel. 

Mr.  Overholt  felt  suddenly  at  variance  with  his 
environment,  for  he  was  unused  to  hauteur  in 
women,  by  whom  he  had  always  been  encouraged 
to  consider  himself  the  focal  point  of  the  sur- 
rounding universe,  and  though  he  glided  easily 
into  conversation  with  Mr.  Brand,  his  mind  was 
active  in  speculation  upon  the  woman,  who  might 
be  unconscious  of  his  proximity  to  her  for  all  the 
evidence  she  gave  to  the  contrary.  Her  face  was 
shielded  from  him,  but  her  pose  and  the  sweeping 
curves  of  her  figure  tormented  him  with  subtle 
challenge,  and  his  eye,  greedy  always  of  beauty 
of  form  and  color,  fastened  upon  her  again  and 
again.  The  dull  red  of  her  velvet  gown,  with  the 
filmly  fretwork  of  lace  about  her  throat  and  arms, 
the  gleam  upon  her  restless  fingers  —  no,  she  was 


6  MRS.    BRAND 

distinctly  not  the  kind  of  wife  that  one  would  nat- 
urally impute  to  John  Brand. 

"  Where  is  Arthur*?  "  inquired  Mr.  Brand,  sud- 
denly, with  a  dinner-time  edge  to  his  voice. 

"  Oh,  he's  coming.    We  must  wait  for  him." 

The  tone  of  her  voice,  and  the  peculiar,  little 
gesture  of  her  head  —  where  had  he  noticed  them 
before?  A  sudden  suspicion  edged  its  way  to  his 
mind.  If  she  would  only  lift  her  eyes.  She  must ; 
he  would  make  her  do  that.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Brand 
felt  the  pressure  of  his  silent  demand  upon  her, 
for  she  pushed  her  chair  sharply  back  a  few  inches 
and  turned  her  face  towards  him;  their  eyes  met 
for  a  brief  moment. 

The  outer  door  gave  a  distant  clang,  and 
almost  immediately  a  young  man  hurried  into  the 
room.  "  Now,  I've  kept  you  waiting,  haven't  I*? 
It's  too  bad.  Mr.  Overholt?  Yes!  I  don't 
attend  that  church  as  a  rule,  but  it  has  certainly 
been  fine  fun  lately  sampling  the  supplies." 

At  the  dinner  table  Mr.  Brand  monopolized  the 
conversation,  according  to  his  wont.  His  position 
in  the  world  held  a  never-ending  fascination  for 
him,  and  sooner  or  later  it  was  inevitable  that  he 


MRS.    BRAND  7 

should  speak  of  the  time  when  he  had  but  one 
shirt,  which  his  first  wife  washed  and  ironed  while 
he  slept.  "  I  tell  you  what  it  is,"  he  said  to-night, 
"  if  these  fellows  who  are  always  grumbling  be- 
cause my  money  isn't  theirs  would  do  as  I  did  for 
a  while  they  wouldn't  have  time  for  so  many 
theories." 

"  How  was  that?  "  inquired  Mr.  Overholt. 

"  Let  them  get  along  for  years  with  four  hours 
for  sleep  a  day,  and  then  lie  awake  to  worry  out 
the  next  scheme,  like  I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Brand. 
"  They  look  at  me  now  and  say:  '  He  don't  do  a 
thing  to  earn  all  that  money.  We  have  more  right 
to  it  than  he  has.'  Have  they*?  A  man  has  got 
to  earn  his  first  thousand  with  the  sweat  of  his 
brow,  and  if  he's  half  smart  it  will  take  care  of 
itself  and  him  too  after  that.  And  it's  precisely 
that  thousand  that  they  want  me  to  earn  for 
them." 

"  Yes,  you're  quite  correct,"  said  Mr.  Overholt. 
"  A  great  deal  of  nonsense  is  talked  about  the 
working  man  just  now.  You  might  almost  sup- 
pose that  it  was  criminal  for  a  man  to  be  indus- 
trious and  saving.  I  believe  the  working  class 


8  MRS.    BRAND 

generally  is  getting  the  idea  that  it  must  be  made 
self-supporting  by  law  and  not  by  labor." 

"  You're  right  there,"  said  Mr.  Brand,  approv- 
ingly. 

Although  Mr.  Overholt  bent  an  attentive  ear 
to  his  host's  reminiscences,  every  faculty  he  had 
was  engaged  in  the  solution  of  the  problem  that 
had  put  him  on  the  rack.  "  The  devil !  "  he  had 
ejaculated  mentally,  as  Mrs.  Brand's  defiant  gaze 
had  revealed  her  identity  to  him.  How  could 
such  a  thing  be  possible?  That  here,  in  this  proud 
and  splendid  woman,  he  should  suddenly  find 
himself  face  to  face  with  that  almost  forgotten 

love-affair ,  he  studied  her  furtively,  his  mind 

in  a  whirl  of  amazement  and  anxiety.  He  re- 
called her  from  among  numerous  skeletons  of  the 
past,  an  odd  kind  of  girl  with  unexpected  streaks 
of  brilliance  and  daring  that  at  first  fascinated, 
and  finally  wearied  him.  She  had  been  a  shabby 
creature  to  whom  clothes  could  only  have  figured 
as  a  necessity,  and  in  that  respect  he  could  find  no 
trace  of  her  in  the  woman  opposite.  As  the  din- 
ner progressed  through  its  courses  he  felt  a  ris- 
ing irritation  at  her  complete  preoccupation  in 


MRS.    BRAND  9 

the  young  man  beside  her.  They  seemed  to  be 
on  the  best  of  terms  with  each  other. 

When  they  rose  from  the  table  Mr.  Brand 
led  his  guest  into  the  library,  but  Mrs.  Brand 
went  into  the  drawing-room,  and  Dr.  Challoner 
followed  her. 

"Who  is  this  fellow?"  he  inquired,  as  they 
stood  together  looking  down  at  the  wreathing 
flames  in  the  grate. 

"  He*?  Oh,  the  new  minister,  or  supply,  or 
what  not,  for  '  The  Pilgrims.'  "  There  was  more 
than  contempt  in  her  tones,  and  Dr.  Challoner 
looked  at  her  with  some  amusement. 

"  What  is  it?    Don't  you  like  him?  " 

"  Like  him !  "  The  vehemence  in  her  voice 
was  surprising.  Then  after  a  moment  she  said 
lightly  enough,  "Dear  no!  What  difference 
does  it  make  to  me  what  he's  like?  " 

Yet  as  Mr.  Overholt  and  her  husband  crossed 
the  room  towards  her  she  shivered  with  dread. 
She  felt  afraid  of  her  own  tongue  even,  lest  it 
should  suddenly,  involuntarily,  reveal  the  past 
behind  them  both,  and  she  looked  at  him  with 


10  MRS.    BRAND 

quick,  unconscious  question  in  her  eyes.  But  he 
was  absorbed  in  his  own  problems. 

"  Mr.  Brand  has  been  telling  me  of  your  work 
in  the  slums,"  he  said  hesitatingly  to  Dr.  Chal- 
loner.  "  I  did  not  quite  understand." 

Dr.  Challoner  smiled.  "  There  are  other  phy- 
sicians here,  as  you  may  know.  So  I  have  adopted 
another  field  of  work,  but  not  here  in  Glenedge." 

"  You  must  let  me  do  something  more  than 
cheaply  sympathize,"  continued  the  minister.  As 
he  spoke  Mr.  Overholt  opened  his  pocket-book, 
and  drew  out  a  bill.  With  a  really  tender  heart 
for  the  sufferings  of  others  he  combined  a  gaudy 
generosity  that  frequently  paid  him  a  handsome 
dividend  on  the  investment. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Dr  Challoner,  drawing  back. 
"  I  do  not  beg  for  my  people."  He  felt  a  sudden, 
unreasonable  aversion  to  taking  the  money. 

"  You  had  better  take  it,  Arthur.  I  do  not  sup- 
pose it  will  choke  anyone."  Mrs.  Brand  had  not 
meant  to  speak,  but  the  hidden  rush  of  feeling  had 
its  way  with  her,  and  she  heard  her  own  voice  with 
a  feeling  of  terror.  Her  remark  acted  on  Mr. 
Overholt  like  a  lash.  He  moved  directly  before 


MRS.    BRAND  11 

her,  and  looking  down  at  her  steadily  with  those 
blue  eyes  in  whose  amorous  depths  she  had  once 
lost  herself,  he  said  coolly :  "  Thank  you,  Mrs. 
Brand.  I  admire  the  fine  discrimination  of  that 
remark." 

The  hands  lying  in  her  lap  began  to  tremble; 
she  felt  his  pitiless  gaze  upon  them.  The  old, 
forgotten  fear  of  him,  the  fear  so  subtly  mingled 
with  ignorance  and  admiration  by  which  he  had 
compelled  her  girlish  love,  awoke  in  her  again. 
He  divined  it,  and  in  one  triumphant  instant  he 
felt  himself  safe.  No,  she  had  not  told  her  hus- 
band, and  she  never  would. 

"  Your  aunt,"  he  said,  turning  to  Dr.  Challoner 
with  an  easy  smile 

"  Aunt !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brand.  It  was  such 
a  relief  to  seize  an  outside  topic.  "  I  draw  the 
line  at  aunthood,"  she  said  decisively. 

"  Yes,  we  tried  it  for  a  year,  and  it  didn't  work. 
But  it's  too  long  a  story  now."  Dr.  Challoner 
smiled,  and  rose  to  go. 

"  Must  you  be  off,  my  boy?  Well,  don't  for- 
get the  way  to  my  pocket-book  when  anyone  down 
there  needs  helping  out." 


12  MRS.    BRAND 

"  All  right,  uncle.  It's  a  well  beaten  track." 
And  the  doctor  was  gone. 

The  dread  of  a  possible  tete-a-tete  forced  itself 
upon  Mrs.  Brand.  Her  husband  was  an  old  man, 
and  if  his  guest  remained  much  later  he  would 
certainly  resign  himself  to  his  evening  paper 
towards  which  his  eyes  were  yearning  even  now. 
"  I  think  I'll  amuse  myself,  and  give  you  gentle- 
men a  chance  to  talk  church  to  your  heart's  con- 
tent," she  said  abruptly. 

After  a  while  the  conversation  in  the  drawing- 
room  lagged  conspicuously,  and  still  Mr.  Overholt 
waited.  He  was  busy  importuning  Fate  for  a  lead 
that  he  could  follow.  And  presently  there  floated 
towards  him  faint  fragments  of  a  melody,  at  once 
alluring  and  evasive. 

"  How  beautifully  Mrs.  Brand  plays !  Do  you 
think  she  would  resent  my  listening  to  her  a  little 
nearer?  " 

"  Why,  no,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brand  heartily,  his 
hand  already  on  his  paper.  "  Follow  the  sound, 
and  you'll  find  her."  And  with  a  sigh  of  relief  he 
was  lost  in  a  study  of  black  and  white. 

Mrs.   Brand,  piling  one  passionate  crescendo 


MRS.    BRAND  13 

upon  another,  felt  rather  than  saw  the  minister 
beside  her.  She  played  on,  and  he,  leaning  against 
the  piano  watching  her  face  in  the  dim  light,  was 
stirred  by  memories  of  the  very  existence  of  which 
he  had  been  hitherto  unconscious.  It  seemed  but 
yesterday  that  he  had  held  her  in  his  arms,  and 
felt  the  meeting  of  her  lips  upon  his,  and  now, 
what  a  gulf  lay  between!  Perhaps  the  pressure 
of  the  past  grew  at  that  moment  unendurable  to 
her,  for  her  hands  dropped  with  a  sudden  crash 
on  the  key-board. 

"  Why  did  you  stop*?  I  never  heard  anyone 
play  so  beautifully,"  he  said  sincerely. 

She  laughed  scornfully.  "  Yes,  I  play  very 
well,"  she  answered  with  impartial  chill.  "  It 
would  be  strange  if  I  did  not." 

"  We  don't  all  succumb  to  training  so  easily. 
But  most  of  us  can  learn  enough  to  recognize  our 
mistakes,"  he  remarked  experimentally. 

Mrs.  Brand  rose  from  the  piano. 

"  No,  don't  go.  There  is  something  I  must  say 
to  you."  In  his  insistence  he  laid  his  hand  upon 
her  arm,  soft  and  white  above  her  bracelet.  She 
quivered  helplessly,  and  stood  still,  waiting. 


14  MRS.    BRAND 

"  My  wife  is  here,  sick  and  alone.  She  is  a 
good,  little  woman,  and  it  would  grieve  me  if 
she  had  to  suffer  for  my  sins.  May  I  not  hope 
that  she  may  have  you  for  her  friend?  " 

"  Your  wife,"  repeated  Mrs.  Brand  slowly. 
"  How  long  have  you  been  married?  " 

"  Four  years  and  a  half." 

He  had  not  married  her  at  once  then. 

Instinctively  he  divined  her  thought. 

"  I  did  not  marry  Mary  Moore." 

"You  did  not!" 

"  You  must  remember,"  he  answered  quickly, 
the  tang  of  bitterness  in  his  voice,  "  that  you 
refused  any  explanation  whatever;  that  my  let- 
ters were  returned  to  me  unopened,  and  that  when 
I  went  to  your  home  to  explain  matters  person- 
ally, I  found  that  you  had  consoled  yourself  by 
marriage,  and  were  gone, —  to  Hell  for  all  that 
I  cared." 

His  vehemence  so  subtly  calculated  was  not 
without  its  balm  to  her. 

"  But  how  could  you  possibly  expect  to 
explain " 

"  I  didn't,"  he  broke  in  eagerly,  "  but  a  man  is 


MRS.    BRAND  15 

never  a  fool  in  his  own  estimate.  I  admit  it  all. 
Anything  you  like  to  say  or  think  of  me.  But 
now  — "  he  paused  significantly  —  "  what  ex- 
planation is  possible  to  me  now?  And  yet  my 
wife  —  it  would  mean  so  much  to  her  — "  and 
then  as  if  mastered  by  an  impulse  that  would  not 
yield,  he  added,  impetuously,  "  You  will  under- 
stand so  many  things  when  you  see  her." 
.  Suddenly  she  held  out  her  hand.  In  the  flood 
that  threatened  to  sweep  her  away  from  her 
accustomed  moorings  far  out  upon  the  unknown 
depths  of  experience  she  was  glad  to  grasp  at 
something  definite. 

"I  will  come  and  see  your  wife,"  she  said 
simply,  and  together  they  passed  out  into  the 
mellow  radiance  beyond  them. 


CHAPTER  II 

LONG  hours  after  Mr.  Overholt  had  sunk  into 
sleep,  kaleidoscopic  with  brilliant  dreams  in  which 
now  the  church  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  and  now 
Mrs.  Brand  appeared  to  lay  themselves  at  his 
aspiring  feet,  Mrs.  Brand  herself  remained  awake, 
staring  with  wide-open  eyes  into  the  darkness 
where  the  memories  of  the  past  took  sombre  shape. 
She  saw  herself  a  girl  again,  and  her  heart  ached 
for  that  girl.  Aunt  Lavinia, —  could  anything 
have  mitigated  the  misery  of  living  with  Aunt 
Lavinia,  whose  reputation  for  piety  was  a  thing 
to  conjure  with, —  outside  her  own  home?  Her 
facility  in  prayer  was  such  that  she  was  constantly 
in  demand,  and  her  missionary  zeal  left  nothing 
out,  except,  of  course,  her  husband  and  her 
wretched  little  niece,  equal  burdens  upon  the  soar- 
ing pinions  of  her  sanctity.  But  when  Cecily 
graduated  from  High  School,  a  lank,  ungainly 
girl,  and  Aunt  Lavinia  was  silently  exultant  to 

16 


MRS.    BRAND  17 

think  that  now  at  last  she  could  transfer  those 
ignominious  duties  of  house-keeping  and  home- 
making  that  had  so  cruelly  enslaved  her  hitherto, 
it  was  discovered  that  Uncle  Ben  had  other  and 
obstinately  rooted  ideas  in  regard  to  the  future  of 
his  niece. 

"  You  intend  to  send  her  to  college !  "  reiter- 
ated Aunt  Lavinia  for  the  twentieth  time,  grimly 
doubting  the  evidence  of  her  ears,  and  Uncle  Ben 
himself  trembled  at  hearing  his  dreams  of  inde- 
pendence thus  assailed. 

"Well,"  he  admitted  reluctantly,  "she's  too 
smart  not  to  have  a  chance." 

"  Too  smart,"  screamed  Aunt  Lavinia,  by  way 
of  working  up  to  a  wild  outburst  of  tears.  "  Oh, 
yes,  to  be  sure.  It's  only  dull  people  like 
me " 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  Uncle  Ben,  unwittingly 
allowing  his  tongue  a  loop-hole  of  escape  from 
between  his  teeth,  "  I  should  think  Cecily's  going 
away  to  college  would  be  a  great  relief  to  you,  for 
you  have  always  said  what  a  burden  she  was,  and 
how  differently  you  could  arrange  your  life  if  she 
wasn't  here." 


18  MRS.    BRAND 

So  Cecily  went  to  college,  and  when  she  came 
back  every  now  and  then  Uncle  Ben  felt  repaid 
for  the  wounds  which  that  war  had  inflicted. 
Aunt  Lavinia's  exhortations  had  lost  their  terrors 
for  the  girl,  and  she  could  afford  to  smile  about 
them  now.  For  life  had  all  at  once  become  very 
sweet  to  Cecily,  and  she  expanded  like  a  rose 
beneath  the  maturing  influence  of  sun  and  shower. 

"  Why,  Cecily,  you're  getting  to  be  quite  a 
beauty." 

"  Oh  no,  Uncle  Ben,  just  healthy  and  happy, 
thanks  to  you." 

Eugene  Overholt!  In  letters  of  fire  the  name 
defined  itself  against  the  mid-night  gloom.  Why 
had  he  ever  crossed  her  path*?  He  was  a  student 
like  herself,  but  in  the  Theological  Department, 
and  when  they  first  became  acquainted  she  had 
taken  no  pains  to  encourage  the  intimacy  for  that 
very  reason.  She  despised  theologues.  Alas!  it 
was  precisely  this  aloofness  that  enhanced  her 
attractiveness  to  the  budding  pastor,  who  had  not 
hitherto  suffered  feminine  rebuff  and  found  the 
experience  delightfully  stimulating,  and  as  time 
went  on  the  piquant  flavor  of  this  flirtation  devel- 


MRS.    BRAND  19 

oped  in  him  a  passion  for  the  answer  to  a  question 
which  bewitched  him, — "  She  loves  me,  she 
loves  me  not !  " 

It  was  years  since  she  had  re-incarnated  the 
ghosts  of  memory  as  she  was  doing  to-night.  Her 
brain  reeled  and  her  heart  grew  sick.  Even  in 
the  darkness  she  felt  the  blood  rush  hotly  to  her 
face  as  she  realized  how  complete  had  been  his 
conquest  at  last.  Had  he  ever  forgotten  that 
evening,  when  after  the  manner  of  their  kind,  they 
had  wandered  far  out  upon  a  quiet  country  road, 
and  as  the  shadows  deepened  she  had  leaned 
towards  him,  and  intoxicated  with  the  bliss  of 
loving  and  of  being  loved  had  kissed  him  of  her 
own  accord  for  the  first  time. 

" All  thy  passions  matched  with  mine, 

Are  as  moonlight  unto  sunlight  and  as  water  unto 
wine." 

Her  lips  curled.  Ah,  was  it  so*?  And  then  that 
letter  —  that  terrible  letter.  They  had  both  grad- 
uated, and  he  had  gone  out  West  to  take  charge 
of  a  little  church,  while  she  was  to  spend  her  time 


20  MRS.    BRAND 

in  teaching  until  their  marriage.  After  a  few 
weeks  his  letters  grew  duller  and  briefer  than  even 
his  inaptitude  as  a  correspondent  warranted,  but 
she  made  tender  excuse  for  him  in  her  heart, — 
he  was  so  busy  caring  for  his  flock  and  composing 
the  sermons  that  must  be  masterpieces  of  plead- 
ing. Under  the  stimulus  of  preparing  herself  to 
be  a  fitting  help-mate  for  him  she  turned  towards 
religion,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  harried 
youth  she  felt  herself  at  peace  with  God  and 
nature. 

One  day  the  postman  handed  an  unusually 
bulky  letter  with  a  smile  of  kindly  comprehension. 
She  flew  with  her  treasure  to  her  room,  her  heart 
throbbing  with  anticipation.  As  she  whisked  by 
her  chair  she  caught  sight  of  herself  in  the  mirror, 
and  stood  still  for  an  instant  to  apostrophize  the 
radiant  reflection  of  her  happiness.  If  only  a 
photographer  had  been  by  to  immortalize  that 
moment  and  himself,  it  would  have  covered  a 
multitude  of  sins.  It  was  Cecily's  last  glimpse  of 
her  girlhood.  She  tore  open  the  envelope  greed- 
ily. "  My  darling  Mary — "  What  did  it  mean? 
She  stared  stupidly  at  it  for  a  moment,  and  then 


MRS.    BRAND  21 

turned  to  the  end  of  the  letter.  "  Your  devoted 
Eugene."  A  prescient  chill  seized  her  heart  and 
she  sat  quite  still  staring  dully  at  the  wall  before 
her.  The  letter  spoke  for  itself.  One  term  of 
endearment  followed  another,  and  as  she  rigidly 
exhausted  page  after  page  it  dawned  at  last  upon 
her  to  whom  they  were  addressed, —  pretty,  little 
Mary  Moore,  a  fellow  student  whom  Nature  had 
clearly  ordained  for  decorative  rather  than  intel- 
lectual ends.  "  Mary,  Mary  Moore,"  she  re- 
peated with  passionate  contempt.  These  love- 
lured  sentences,  the  very  ones  indeed  over  which 
her  own,  shy  lips  had  lingered,  how  sickening  they 
were  in  the  fierce  light  of  this  revelation.  Even 
the  sudden  thought  that  no  doubt  the  letter  he  had 
written  her  was  already  in  the  hands  of  Mary 
Moore  was  powerless  to  inflict  a  sharper  sting 
upon  her.  Hour  after  hour  she  sat  there,  alone 
with  her  dead  dreams,  until  the  darkness  of  night 
penetrated  her  benumbed  consciousness.  Then  she 
staggered  to  her  feet,  only  to  sink  weakly  upon  her 
knees  beside  her  bed,  there  to  surrender  herself  to 
the  storm  that  swept  her  before  it  like  chaff. 
Six  weeks  later  she  married  John  Brand,  a  life- 


22  MRS.    BRAND 

long  friend  of  good  Uncle  Ben's  whose  "  Nunc 
Dimitis  "  over  the  event  seemed  to  her  quite  suf- 
ficient warrant  for  it.  .  But  she  was  no  unwilling 
bride.  In  those  six  weeks  she  accumulated  a  stock 

• 

of  worldly  maxims  which  would  have  graced  a 
hoary  head.  Love*?  Sentiment?  Bah!  And  to 
John  Birand,  madly  in  love  and  proportionately 
vain  6Ver  .the  discovery  after  the  manner  of  men 
of  his  yeajs,  there  was  a  delicious  fascination  in 
those  garish. statements  from  her  ripe,  young  lips. 
"  Love  you1?  Oh  no.  Please  don't  marry  me  on 
any  such  basis  as  that.  You  are  a  good  man,  I 
think,  and  I  £m  satisfied  with  that.  I  don't  see 
why  people  should  make  two  fools  of  themselves 
over  this  particular  species  of  contract.  You 
don't  think  it  necessary  to  go  into  rhapsodies  over 
your  business  partner  or  to  sit  for  hours  gazing 
into  his  eyes  like  an  owl." 

On  religious  matteb  she  was  equally  explicit. 
"  I  respect  your  beliefs,"  she  said  tolerantly,  "  but 
personally  I  see  no  reason  for  believing  in  them." 
Still  he  felt  no  discouragement,  for  he  relied  upon 
contact  with  himself  to  effect  $p  easy  transforma- 
tion of  these  girlish  crudities,  and  it  was  no  doubt 


MRS.    BRAND  23 

a  distinct  shock  to  him  later  on,  when  sentiment 
so  dealt  with  in  the  abstract  loomed  up  concretely 
in  the  form  of  a  decided  refusal  to  say  her  prayers 
before  she  went  to  bed.  This  was  outraging  to 
one's  ideals  of  womanhood.  But  as  time  went  on 
they  settled  down  into  a  sort  of  Darby  and  Joan 
jog-trot  in  which  each  conceded  a  little  to  the 
other's  gait.  If  Mr.  Brand  became  conscious  of  a 
lack  in  his  wife,  which  he  would  have  hesitated  to 
analyze,  he  attributed  it  broadly  to  a  tempera- 
ment superior  to  the  vulgar  manifestations  of 
affection.  As  for  jealously, —  he  would  have 
laughed  at  the  bare  idea.  Bless  my  heart !  What 
could  any  other  man  have  given  her  that  she 
didn't  have  as  his  wife.  She  was  a  fancy  article, 
to  be  sure,  and  as  such  not  to  be  judged  by  stand- 
ards applicable  to  grosser  moulds. 

The  night  wore  on,  deepening  at  last  into  the 
chill  darkness  of  the  coming  dawn.  Her  husband 
slept  heavily  beside  her.  How  old  and  ashen  his 
face  had  looked  against  the  vigorous  glow  of  that 
other  one!  And  she  had  thought  it  possible  by 
one  wild  plunge  to  fix  a  gulf  forever  between  her 
present  and  her  past !  Poor  fool ! 


24  MRS.    BRAND 

But  she  had  no  thought  of  the  revenge  which 
Mr.  Overholt  dreaded,  for  the  possibility  of  his 
becoming  the  pastor  of  the  church  of  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers  had  not  suggested  itself  to  her.  Her  only 
anxiety  was  to  bear  herself  towards  him  with  a 
dignity  befitting  her  present  station  in  the  world. 
The  sooner  he  discovered  what  a  small  place  that 
insignificant  love-affair  occupied  in  her  remem- 
brance, the  better  it  would  be.  She  would  have 
been  less  the  woman,  however,  if  she  had  not  dis- 
covered some  sweet  subleties  of  compliment  in 
his  inability  immediately  to  recognize  her.  She 
almost  laughed  as  she  recalled  how  she  must  have 
appeared  in  those  student  days  during  her  incom- 
plete emancipation  from  Aunt  Lavinia's  sway. 
For  to  Aunt  Lavinia  any  theory  that  regarded 
clothes  as  other  than  a  mere  envelope  for  perish- 
able human  frames  was  an  invention  of  the  devil. 
So  it  was  not  strange  that  Overholt  had  failed  to 
recognize  in  the  woman  she  was  now  the  girl  who 
had  once  been  his  sweetheart.  Oh  well!  She 
would  take  good  care  that  he  should  find  out  the 
change  in  her  outward  appearance,  great  as  it 
might  be,  was  slight  in  comparison  with  those 


MRS.    BRAND  25 

more  complex  changes  that  separate  the  simple- 
hearted  girl  from  the  woman  of  the  world  it 
pleased  her  to  think  herself. 

Naturally  enough,  it  had  been  a  great  shock  to 
her,  this  unexpected  meeting,  but  as  she  dwelt 
upon  it  the  situation  defined  itself  to  her  more 
clearly,  and  her  imagination  exploited  its  possible 
phases  in  a  way  that  reflected  great  credit  upon 
her  capacity.  After  all,  it  was  but  fair  that  she 
should  be  just  enough  to  admit  that  there  might 
be  changes  in  Mr.  Overholt  equal  to  those  in  her- 
self. Certainly  Mr.  Brand  seemed  captivated  by 
him,  and  he  was  not  given  to  making  mistakes  in 
his  judgments. 

In  this  as  in  many  debates  with  herself  that  suc- 
ceeded it,  Mrs.  Brand  took  account  of  everything 
except  herself.  There  was  nothing  abnormal 
about  her  failure  to  do  this,  for  she  was  not  more 
ignorant  of  the  mental  and  moral  ingredients  of 
which  she  was  composed  than  are  most  mortals. 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  was  a  cold  afternoon  towards  the  close  of 
December,  when  Mrs.  Brand  stepped  into  her  car- 
riage to  go  and  call  upon  Mrs.  Overholt.  She 
had  met  the  minister  a  good  many  times  since 
that  evening,  but  there  had  been  no  reference  to 
a  past  which  they  were  equally  anxious  to  ignore. 
But  the  attitude  that  Mrs.  Brand  had  so  con- 
fidently prescribed  for  herself  she  found  difficult 
to  preserve.  What  object  was  there  in  planting 
her  personal  vicinity  with  signs  that  read  plainly, 
"  Keep  off  the  grass,"  only  to  have  them  unnoticed 
and  trampled  down  at  the  pleasure  of  the  intruder 
who  calmly  assumed  her  consent. 

It  was  gradually  becoming  an  assured  fact  that 
Mr.  Overholt  would  be  called  to  the  pastorate  of 
the  church.  His  own  rating  of  himself  had  ap- 
parently been  a  conservative  one,  judged  by  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  growing  congregations  that 
assembled  to  give  him  a  hearing.  From  the  very 


MRS.    BRAND  27 

first,  the  circumstances  of  his  advent  among  them 
had  been  a  sort  to  awaken  sympathy,  and  when 
he  appeared  a  few  Sundays  after  his  arrival  ten- 
derly leading  up  the  aisle  his  little  wife,  frail  and 
sweet  as  a  passing  flower,  there  were  even  some 
moist  eyes  among  those  who  eagerly  devoured  the 
spectacle  he  had  prepared  for  them.  He  under- 
stood the  importance  of  accessories  as  thoroughly 
as  any  stage  manager,  but  his  game  was  worth 
the  candle. 

It  was  natural  that  he  should  become  a  frequent 
visitor  at  the  Brands.  There  were  many  things 
about  which  he  desired  the  deacon's  opinion.  "  I 
do  want  to  revive  the  work  as  well  as  I  can  while 
I  am  here,"  he  said  whole-heartedly,  "  and  it's 
astonishing  the  disorganization  that  sets  in  when 
a  church  is  so  long  without  a  pastor.  Why,  some 
of  the  societies  have  gone  utterly  to  smash, —  I 
can't  even  find  the  pieces." 

"  Perhaps  that's  a  providential  dispensation," 
remarked  Mr.  Brand  dryly. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder.  There's  another  thing  I 
noticed.  Most  churches  have  a  couple  of  vicious, 
old  cranks  in  them,  but  there  are  more  to  the 


28  MRS.    BRAND 

square  yard  in  this  church  than  in  any  I  ever 
heard  of.  It  strikes  me  there  are  quite  a  few  of 
your  members  who  are  going  to  be  the  kind  of 
angels  that  need  asbestos  wings." 

Mrs.  Brand  laughed.  "  You  appear  to  be 
somewhat  heated  yourself,"  she  said  demurely. 
"  Who  has  been  trying  a  game  of  theological  tag 
on  you  to-day?  " 

Conversations  such  as  these  did  not  calculate 
to  foster  the  chilling  reserve  which  she  had  fore- 
ordained for  herself.  But  in  her  calculations  she 
had  quite  overlooked  the  resources  of  "  the  party 
of  the  second  part,"  and  before  long  she  realized 
that  an  iceberg  drifting  steadily  south  might  as 
well  avoid  disintegrating  influences. 

It  was  with  an  odd  variety  of  sensations  that 
she  grasped  the  hand  of  the  "  good,  little  woman," 
who  was  not  to  suffer  for  her  husband's  sins.  She 
had  come  armed  with  all  the  conscious  panoply  of 
place  and  prestige,  but  her  heart  melted  at  the 
sight  of  the  wan,  little  face  so  timidly  lifted  to 
her  own. 

"  But  are  you  really  better? "   she   inquired 


MRS.    BRAND  29 

doubtfully,  after  they  had  consumed  some  time 
in  the  verbal  moves  of  polite  society. 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Overholt  with  convic- 
tion. "There  is  really  nothing  the  matter  —  it 
is  just  my  husband's  anxiety,"  she  added  with  a 
little  color  rising  in  her  face. 

Mrs.  Brand  smiled  tolerantly.  Mr.  Overholt's 
words,  "  When  you  see  my  wife  you  will  under- 
stand many  things,"  came  back  to  her  mind.  Yes, 
indeed.  She  sat  for  a  moment  in  silence  staring 
absently  at  the  fire  and  the  grinning  spectres  in 
its  red  depths. 

"  Are  you  pleasantly  situated  here*?  "  she  asked 
abruptly  but  not  unkindly,  her  eyes  travelling  in 
critical  survey  around  the  room. 

"  Oh  yes,  all  things  considered.  It  was  very 
fortunate  that  we  could  rent  the  house  furnished 
for  the  two  months." 

"  We  have  a  beautiful  parsonage.  It  would  be 
a  nice  place  to  live  in,"  said  Mrs.  Brand,  but  Mrs. 
Overholt  answered  with  gravity,  "  Yes,  I  suppose 
it  would." 

"  Have  many  of  our  ladies  called  on  you?  " 


30  MRS.    BRAND 

"  A  few."  A  worried,  little  crease  appeared  in 
Mrs.  Overholt's  forehead. 

"  They  ask  so  many  questions,"  she  hazarded 
shyly. 

"  I  could  not  have  believed  it  —  especially  of 
Mrs.  Crumpet,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brand  wickedly. 
Then  they  both  laughed,  and  after  that  everything 
was  easy. 

"  But  fortunately  they  are  not  all  like  Mrs. 
Crumpet.  I  think  I  shall  have  to  coach  you  a 
little,  for  I  know  exactly  how  they  will  pump  you. 
Do  you  think,  for  instance,  that  you  would  like  to 
live  in  Glenedge*?  "  Her  quick  ear  had  caught  the 
sound  of  the  street  door,  and  a  subsequent  rustle 
in  the  room  that  was  connected  by  an  arch  with 
the  one  in  which  she  and  Mrs.  Overholt  were 
sitting.  Instinctively  she  began  to  play  a  part  for 
the  benefit  of  an  unseen  hearer.  "  The  answer 
to  that  question  is  self-evident,  only  the  young  and 
thoughtless  would  ask  it.  Glenedge  and  Paradise 
are  synonymous  terms.  About  them  one  must 
cherish  hopes,  but  never  opinions." 

Mrs.  Overholt  looked  perplexed,  but  her  lips 
assumed  a  patient,  little  smile. 


MRS.    BRAND  81 

"Is  your  husband  an  early  riser?"  demanded 
Mrs.  Brand  relentlessly  with  so  exact  an  assump- 
tion of  the  manner  of  which  the  minister's  wife 
had  already  had  an  experience  that  it  was  impos- 
sible not  to  laugh. 

"  Well  of  course  it  makes  a  difference " 

"  Nothing  ever  makes  any  difference  in  a  min- 
ister's family.  You  must  say  that  your  breakfast 
hour  is  half-past  six,  or  Mrs.  Deacon  Humdrum 
would  be  shocked  at  your  shiftlessness.  The 
Humdrums  weary  of  life  every  evening  at  half- 
past  eight,  and  never  have  breakfast  later  than 
six  o'clock,  no  matter  how  many  hours  of  sleep 
they  have  suffered  from.  I  have  a  slavish  admir- 
ation for  Mrs.  Humdrum.  She  seems  to  think 
she  is  the  understudy  of  my  guardian  angel,  and 
after  the  sermons  she  always  feels  impelled  to 
force  a  special  application  of  it  to  my  needs." 
"  I  suppose  you  are  very  active  in  the  church?  " 
"I"?  Oh,  no !  I  take  no  interest  in  it  whatever, 
—  not  in  the  way  you  mean.  But  as  a  spectator 
I  get  a  great  deal  out  of  it.  It  is  such  an  ad- 
mirable stamping-ground,  and  necessarily,  I  have 
always  been  intimate  with  the  minister's  family." 


32  MRS.    BRAND 

"  How  strange !  " 

"  That  I  should  be  intimate  with  the  minister's 
family? "  And  wilfully  misinterpreting  the 
remark  Mrs.  Brand  rushed  on.  "  Yes,  isn't  it 
comical.  Of  course  you  never  saw  Dr.  Marvin! 
The  dearest  old  antediluvian.  He  was  a  valuable 
relic." 

Mrs.  Overholt  had  never  heard  anyone  talk  of 
the  ministerial  species  like  this  before,  and  she 
looked  a  little  troubled. 

"  But  I  was  fond  of  Dr.  Marvin.  He  never 
nagged  me  about  my  soul;  he  only  prayed  about 
it,  and  I  quite  approve  of  that.  But  Mrs.  Marvin 
was  different.  She  would  nag  if  you  got  caught 
alone  with  her.  But  you  aren't  like  that?  You 
aren't  afflicted  with  a  heroic  sense  of  duty,  I 
hope?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Mrs.  Overholt  earnestly.  "  I'm 
afraid  I'm  very  negligent  about  those  things.  I 
don't  think  I  was  cut  out  for  a  pastor's  wife." 

She  looked  so  mournful  that  Mrs.  Brand 
laughed.  "  You  poor,  little  thing,"  was  her  in- 
ward comment;  "  in  the  hands  of  the  Tom,  Dick 
and  Harry  Humdrums." 


MRS.    BRAND  33 

"  Be  thankful  you  weren't,"  she  said  aloud. 
"  One  would  suppose  to  hear  some  people  talk 
that  there  were  three  sexes,  Men,  Women  and 
Ministers'  Wives." 

"  May  I  come  in*?  "  said  a  voice  behind  her  as 
she  finished  speaking.  "  Mrs.  Brand,  how  kind 
this  is  of  you!  Why,  dear,  you  look  positively 
giddy."  And  Mr.  Overholt  sank  wearily  into  his 
big  chair  before  the  fire.  "  What  have  you  two 
been  gossiping  about  ?  "  he  asked,  with  an  admir- 
able display  of  innocence. 

"  Oh,  ministers, —  and  people,"  said  Mrs. 
Overholt  vaguely. 

"  That's  a  fine  distinction,  and  I'm  dreadfully 
afraid  that  Mrs.  Brand  is  responsible  for  it," 
hinted  Mr.  Overholt. 

"  No,  I  think  that's  original  with  Mrs.  Over- 
holt,"  retorted  Mrs.  Brand.  "  But  it  has  my 
approval." 

"  Why?  " 

For  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  resist  the  query. 
While  he  was  intermittently  the  victim  of  alarms 
regarding  this  woman,  the  situation  had  developed 
charms  for  him  which  outweighed  its  perils. 


34  MRS.    BRAND 

"  Don't  you  know1?  "  she  asked,  with  a  chal- 
lenge in  her  dark  eyes  that  he  accepted  and 
returned  on  the  fly,  while  Mrs.  Overholt  sat  silent 
in  innocent  admiration  of  the  enigmas  surround- 
ing her.  "  Oh,  you  surely  wouldn't  submit  to 
being  classed  among  people,  common,  vulgar 
people  who  have  to  be  kept  under  by  command- 
ments and  all  that  sort  of  thing"?  " 

He  felt  the  flash  in  her  eyes.  "  Oh,  spare  us  — 
the  poor  ministers,"  he  replied  with  collective 
prudence.  "  I'm  sure  you  would  if  you  only  knew 
the  tortures  I've  endured  dashing  civility  around 
the  parish  this  afternoon.  There's  Mrs.  Kelly, 
for  instance,  who  thinks  my  sermons  '  too  kind  of 
pretty  *  to  impress  the  intellect  of  Allen  Edward, 
'  and  I  shall  look  to  you,  Mr.  Overholt,  to  gather 
that  precious  sheaf  into  the  harvest.  We  are 
regular  contributors  to  the  pastor's  support.'  " 

"  That  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Brand,  "  has  a  head 
for  business." 

"  So  I  concluded.  And  fortunately  at  the 
request  of  the  treasurer  I  had  looked  over  his 
books  with  him  the  other  day  thereby  placing  my- 
self in  a  position  to  say  promptly  to  Mrs.  Kelly : 


MRS.    BRAND  35 

'  Then  I  am  to  infer  that  you  wish  ten  dol- 
lars' worth  of  salvation  injected  into  your  son 
annually.'  " 

"  Oh,  lovely !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brand,  with  an 
outburst  of  laughter.  "  But  how  could  you  do 
it?" 

"  It  takes  some  initial  grit,"  he  replied  mod- 
estly. "  But  that  woman  will  cleave  to  me  now 
like  a  kicked  cur.  And  Mrs.  Wigley,"  he  con- 
tinued, reminiscent  of  his  experiences,  "  who  hopes 
that  if  I  am  called  to  this  church,  of  which  she 
has  evidently  the  gravest  doubts,  I  shall  make  it 
the  particular  aim  of  my  ministry  to  become  inti- 
mate with  her  children.  '  They  are  unusually 
bright,  Mr.  Overholt,  and  I  know  that  you  would 
find  them  most  inspiring.  It  is  not  for  my  chil- 
dren that  I  am  pleading,  Mr.  Overholt,  it  is  for 
your  own  good  that  I  speak  so  frankly.  I  think 
you  should  make  a  point  of  mingling  with  the 
young  people  freely.' ' 

"  What  did  you  say?  " 

"  Nothing.  That  crushed  me.  I  wrung  the 
unselfish  mother's  hand  in  trembling  silence  and 
departed  much  affected.  I  wound  up  my  tribula- 


36  MRS.    BRAND 

tions  with  Mrs.  Gasch,  who  hopes  that  Mrs. 
Overholt  is  not  as  frivolous  as  she  looks." 

"  Oh,  don't,"  protested  Mrs.  Brand,  "  that 
abominable,  little  woman." 

"  I  did  my  best  to  ease  her  mind.  I  told  her 
that  I  would  mention  her  feelings  to  the  com- 
mittee, and  would  do  my  utmost  to  prevent  their 
extending  a  call  to  Mrs.  Overholt.  With  that  I 
sweetly  smiled  myself  away,  and  left  Mrs.  Gasch 
quite  agitated,  I  think." 

"  Well,  I  really  don't  think  that  you  have  any 
reason  to  feel  blue  over  your  afternoon's  work. 
And  I  don't  think  Mrs.  Overholt  need  feel  fright- 
ened over  these  dreadful  accounts  of  the  parish. 
There  are  nice  people  here,  and  I  have  been  doing 
my  best  to  prepare  her  to  meet  the  horrid  ones. 
But  there's  one  thing  I  have  forgotten,  and  I 
know  Mrs.  Humdrum  won't.  Mrs.  Overholt," 
she  began  with  tremendous  solemnity,  "  I  trust 
that  your  husband  does  not  defile  himself  with  the 
deadly  weed.  That  is  the  one  thing  upon  which  I 
must  satisfy  my  conscience  with  regard  to  him." 

An  expression  of  agony  appeared  upon  Mrs. 
Overholt's  countenance. 


MRS.    BRAND  37 

"  Why,  my  dear,  of  course  he  smokes,"  said 
Mrs.  Brand  consolingly.  "They  all  do.  Even 
Dr.  Marvin." 

"  What,  now?  "  interposed  Mr.  Overholt,  in  a 
tone  of  horror. 

Mrs.  Brand  dismissed  him  with  a  lofty  glance. 

"  I  caught  him  at  it  once,  but  I  vowed  I'd 
never  tell,  and  I  think  that  was  why  he  was  so 
nice  to  me.  But  when  Mrs.  Humdrum  assaults 
you  on  the  subject  you  must  look  perfectly 
shocked  and  say,  '  Oh  Mrs.  Humdrum,  did  Dr. 
Marvin  do  that*?  How  dreadful ! '  That  will  be 
sufficient.  She  will  nearly  have  a  fit  at  the  bare 
suggestion,  and  as  she  only  has  accommodations 
for  one  idea  at  a  time  you'll  get  off  easily." 

Mrs.  Brand  rose,  gathering  about  her  the  sump- 
tuous wrap  that  had  fallen  from  her  shoulders. 
"  Of  course  you  have  family  prayers,"  she  re- 
marked suggestively.  "  I  know  a  family  who  got 
up  quite  a  reputation  for  piety  by  reading  Tenny- 
son between  the  courses.  The  unsuspicious  Swede 
was  much  impressed  by  the  spectacle,  and  talked 
it  up  accordingly.  Unfortunately  the  family  was 
not  dependent  upon  a  reputation  of  that  kind,  and 


38  MRS.    BRAND 

so  they  told  the  story  on  themselves.  I  merely 
offer  this  as  a  suggestion."  She  met  Mr.  Over- 
holt's  eye  defiantly. 

"Don't  you  think  you're  cruel?"  he  asked 
quietly. 

"  1$  Cruel?  What  a  funny  thing  for  you  to 
say." 

He  looked  at  her  resentfully.  How  long  was 
she  going  to  bully  him  with  that?  But  she  had 
crossed  over  to  his  wife,  and  taking  the  little  hands 
in  her  own  with  a  charming  gesture  she  said,  "  My 
dear,  we  shall  be  friends.  And  don't  let  anyone 
worry  you  into  trying  to  turn  yourself  inside  out 
for  the  sake  of  being  sociable.  Sociable?  "  She 
dwelt  on  the  word  with  contemptuous  emphasis. 
"  It's  a  depraved  word." 

Mr.  Overholt  escorted  her  to  her  carriage,  but 
in  the  vestibule  she  paused  a  moment  to  draw  her 
wrap  closer  about  her  throat. 

"  Ah,  permit  me ! "  he  exclaimed  with  the 
ready  gallantry  so  characteristic  of  him,  and 
before  she  could  utter  a  protest  his  fingers  were 
busy  with  the  troublesome  clasp.  The  color  flew 
burning  into  her  face,  and  then  with  impetuous 


MRS.    BRAND  89 

defiance  of  the  gaze  she  divined  upon  her  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his. 

"  What  kept  you  so  long? "  inquired  Mrs. 
Overholt,  when  her  husband  returned.  She  had 
been  watching  the  departure  of  her  visitor  from 
a  distinctly  feminine  standpoint  —  the  parlor 
window. 

"  Oh,  some  bother  about  her  cape.  I  suppose 
women  like  to  have  their  clothes  so  complicated  as 
to  demand  a  little  masculine  assistance  now  and 
then." 

"  Mean  old  thing,"  declared  his  wife,  pounding 
his  knee  prettily  with  her  little  fists.  She  sat  down 
on  a  low  chair  beside  him,  and  leaned  her  head 
against  his  arm,  and  he  stroked  her  soft  cheek 
tenderly,  with  fingers  in  which  a  thrill  still 
lingered. 

Lilias  McMichael  was  the  only  child  of  wealthy 
parents,  and  had  been  reared  with  all  the  care 
that  their  love  for  her  had  prompted.  When  the 
lover,  who  had  subjugated  first  herself  and  then 
her  parents  by  his  charm,  became  the  equally 
devoted  and  attentive  husband,  she  wondered  in 
the  humble  innocence  of  her  bursting  little  heart 


40  MRS.    BRAND 

what  she  had  done  to  deserve  so  great  a  gift.  She 
was  not  beautiful,  but  she  was  an  exquisitely 
dainty  maiden,  and  her  lines  had  kindly  fallen  to 
her  in  places  that  made  no  harassing  demands 
upon  her  intellectually.  If  there  were  things 
about  her  husband  that  sometimes  puzzled  her 
crinkly  little  brain  she  contracted,  in  due  course 
of  time,  a  satisfactory  habit  of  dismissing  them 
with  the  reflection  that  it  was  not  to  be  expected 
that  she  should  always  understand  him.  And 
when  upon  her  father's  death  a  year  or  two  after 
her  marriage,  it  was  discovered  that  the  fortune 
that  it  had  been  his  life  work  to  acquire  had  van- 
ished in  a  cloud  of  speculation,  her  husband's  bear- 
ing during  that  time  must  have  been  a  signal 
disappointment  to  the  people  who  had  hinted  that 
his  affection  for  her  was  other  than  a  purely 
unselfish  one. 

"  Why,  my  dear  little  child,"  he  protested, 
gathering  his  grief-stricken  wife  in  his  arms,  "  do 
you  suppose  I  want  any  apologies  from  you  about 
your  father's  affairs'?  Anyone  would  think  to  hear 
you  talk  that  I  had  married  you  simply  because 
you  were  an  heiress."  And  yet  that  was  precisely 


MRS.    BRAND  41 

why  he  had  married  her,  as  he  realized  at  this 
moment.  But  he  had  a  saving  contempt  for  retro- 
spect, and  a  profound  assurance  regarding  his 
future  which  served  to  mitigate  the  force  of 
untoward  circumstances.  And  little  Lilias  Over- 
holt,  being  unimaginative,  and  not  given  to  mak- 
ing critical  analyses  of  character,  was  spared  some 
discoveries  that  might  have  disturbed  her  serenity. 

So  it  might  be  inferred  that  there  was  a  wide 
gulf  between  the  thoughts  of  these  two  as  they 
sat  there  in  the  twilight  together. 

"  That  woman  is  as  dangerous  as  a  keg  of  gun- 
powder," thought  Mr.  Overholt. 

But  the  dangers  of  gunpowder  have  never  out- 
weighed its  attractiveness  for  the  male  half  of 
creation. 

A  few  days  after  this  Mrs.  Brand  called  by 
previous  arrangement  to  take  the  invalid  for  a 
drive.  "  There  is  no  hurry,"  she  said  to  the  serv- 
ant, who  explained  that  her  mistress  was  not  quite 
ready.  She  idly  picked  up  a  book  lying  on  the 
table,  and  found  herself  unable  to  repress  a  smile 
at  the  title,  "  Wives  of  Men  of  Genius."  But 
after  running  over  its  pages  she  laid  it  back  upon 


42  MRS.    BRAND 

the  table  with  an  angry  bang.  When  her  indigna- 
tion had  had  time  to  subside  somewhat  her  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  a  noise  outside  the  door. 
"  Whatever  can  it  be,"  she  wondered.  The  door 
handle  rattled  ominously,  and  then  a  little  voice 
said  in  tones  of  affliction,  "  Want  to  come  in. 
Want  to  come  in."  She  hastened  to  open  the 
door,  and  in  marched  a  little  being  bearing  on  his 
sturdy  shoulders  such  a  mass  of  golden  hair  that 
Mrs.  Brand  impetuously  exclaimed :  "  Why,  you 
lovely  yellow  chrysanthemum,  where  did  you 
come  from*?  "  But  the  small  person  surveyed  her 
resentfully,  and  proceeded  to  pucker  up  his  lips  in 
a  way  that  portended  many  things.  He  clearly 
objected  to  her  presence  there,  and  proposed  to 
name  her  an  interloper  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 
"  O  come  here,"  she  cided  desperately.  "  Do  you 
know  I've  got  two  brown  kitties  on  my  hat*?  Did 
you  ever  see  a  brown  kitty?"  And  as  she  spoke 
she  took  off  her  hat,  and  placed  it  alluringly  upon 
her  knee  whence  two  little  telescoped  beasts,  with 
tails  that  apparently  originated  in  the  backs  of 
their  necks,  gazed  enticingly  at  him.  Kitties  of 
so  strange  a  breed  must  be  investigated,  and  the 


MRS.    BRAND  43 

little  boy  began  a  cautious  advance.  He  was  a 
charming  baby  with  his  soft  hair  tossed  into  sunny 
clouds  around  his  cherub's  face,  pink  and  warm 
from  the  effects  of  a  recent  nap,  and  Mrs.  Brand 
in  whose  mind  children  were  a  damp,  unpleasant 
jumble  of  drooling  chins  and  inadequate  jaws,  for 
which  Providence  had  compensated  them  by  a 
surplusage  of  lung-power  placed  at  their  indiscre- 
tion, felt  herself  affected  by  a  new  sensation  as 
she  looked  at  the  bonny  lad. 

"  I  wonder  if  these  kitties  have  any  teeth*?  Has 
yours?  " 

He  nodded  his  head  seriously.  "  My  kitties 
got  spwatchers  too,"  he  vouchsafed  slowly  with 
bewitching  drawl  and  a  pout  of  his  under  lip, 
holding  towards  her  a  fat,  little  fist  on  which 
kitty  had  unmistakably  tattooed  her  trade-mark. 

"  Oh,  my  kitties  never  do  such  things  as  that,' 
said  Mrs.  Brand  feelingly.    "  You  come  up  here, 
and  sit  on  my  knee,  and  I  will  let  you  hold  my 
hat  right  in  your  lap." 

This  invitation  was  accepted  with  dignity,  but 
when  he  once  found  himself  enthroned  with  the 
coveted  quadrupeds  in  his  grasp,  his  infantile 


44  MRS.    BRAND 

doubts  vanished,  and  he  poured  forth  the  secrets 
of  his  soul  with  the  enchanting  candor  of  child- 
hood. 

"Have  kitties  got  fur  insides?  "  he  inquired 
suddenly  after  he  had  nearly  reduced  his  hearer 
to  a  state  of  imbecility  by  his  recollections  of  the 
Animal  Kingdom  generally,  and  Noah's  Ark  in 
particular. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Mrs.  Brand. 

"What  kind  have  dey  got,  den?"  he  asked, 
nailing  her  with  his  relentless,  blue  eyes. 

"  Oh,  why, —  I  don't  know,  why, —  skin 
insides,  I  suppose,  like  yours  and  mine,"  she 
added  hastily,  conscious  that  she  was  being 
weighed  in  the  balance,  and  desperately  anxious 
lest  she  should  be  found  wanting  in  a  clear  defini- 
tion of  "  insides." 

"  What  color  bleed  have  dey  got*?  " 

But  this  question  was  easier  to  dispose  of. 

"  Oh,  red  bleed,"  she  answered  promptly,  "  just 
like  yours  and  mine." 

"  Just  like  the  bleed  in  your  cheek? "  he 
demanded,  looking  at  it  skeptically,  and  proceed- 
ing to  pinch  it  experimentally  with  his  pigmy 


MRS.    BRAND  45 

thumb  and  finger.  This  was  delicious.  It  was 
years  since  she  had  so  unreservedly  enjoyed 
herself. 

"  Where  did  you  get  your  chrysanthemum 
hair?  "  she  inquired  presently  during  a  temporary 
lull  in  the  proceedings. 

"  From  Heaven.  But  it  is  going  to  seed  now. 
I  told  mamma  it  would  if  she  didn't  cut  it  soon. 
The  inside  of  my  head  is  full  of  hair  seeds,"  he 
added  cheerfully. 

"  Oh  dear !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Overholt  opening 
the  door  at  this  moment,  and  gazing  ruefully  at 
the  spectacle  before  her.  "  Why,  McMichael, 
how  did  you  ever  get  in  here?  I  suppose  he  has 
bothered  you  to  death,  Mrs.  Brand." 

"  No,  indeed.  We've  had  a  fine  time  together 
—  haven't  we?"  She  hesitated,  and  then  said: 
"  Would  you  mind  my  calling  him  Chrysan- 
themum*? When  he  brought  his  head  in  I  couldn't 
call  him  anything  else." 

Mrs.  Overholt  did  mind  a  great  deal,  being  very 
proud  of  her  patronymic,  but  she  smothered  her 
preference  for  the  good  of  the  cause,  and  said 
with  patient  sweetness:  "  Oh,  no;  it  is  all  right. 


46  MRS.    BRAND 

We  are  very  proud  of  his  name,  McMichael.  If 
he  should  ever  settle  in  the  East  where  my  family 
is  known  it  would  be  a  passport  for  him." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Brand  vaguely, 
wondering  why  people  would  seek  to  propit- 
iate remote  contingencies  at  such  a  sacrifice. 
McMichael  Overholt! 

Chrysanthemum  took  rather  a  tearful  farewell 
of  his  new  friend,  and  was  only  consoled  by  the 
promise  of  a  drive  with  the  pony. 

"  Such  a  dear,  little  pony !  "  said  Mrs.  Brand. 

"Has  he  got  a  tail?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  he's  nearly  all  tail." 

"And  four  legs?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  can  I  whip  him  all  I  want  to?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  think  so." 

"  And  den  will  he  wun  away?  "  he  wound  up 
in  glee  at  the  hope  of  such  a  climax. 

Mrs.  Brand's  growing  intimacy  with  the  min- 
ister's family  was  a  great  source  of  satisfaction  to 
her  husband.  He  had  often  been  forced  to  admit 
to  himself  that  her  little  witticisms  at  the  expense 
of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marvin  had  not  been  without 


MRS.    BRAND  47 

warrant,  and  he  felt  it  a  most  encouraging  sign 
that  she  listened  attentively  to  the  sermons  of  this 
pastor,  and  made  no  remarks  about  them  what- 
ever. Mr.  Overholt's  reputation  as  an  orator  was 
already  having  so  marked  an  effect  upon  the 
church  attendance  that  Mrs.  Crumpet  was  forced 
sadly  to  admit  having  never  expected  in  her  time 
"  to  see  the  Church  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  become 
the  resort  of  the  rabble."  The  gospel  according  to 
Sister  Crumpet  did  not  contemplate  the  adoption 
as  a  working  theory  of  any  such  risky  utterances 
as,  "  I  was  a  stranger  and  ye  took  me  in,"  and 
she  endured  bitter  pangs  at  the  invasion  of  the 
pew  that  had  always  been  sacred  to  her  substantial 
person. 


CHAPTER    IV 

MRS.  BRAND  stood  in  the  rounding  alcove  of  her 
sitting-room,  looking  idly  out  upon  the  storm  that 
whistled  icily  against  the  windows.  How  dull  it 
was  to  be  shut  up  alone  all  day !  As  it  was  neces- 
sary for  a  full-grown  woman  to  have  some  occupa- 
tion other  than  twirling  her  thumbs,  she  had  set 
herself  to  the  writing  of  a  long-delayed  letter. 
She  had  committed  herself  to  the  address,  but  the 
date?  That  puzzled  her,  and  she  had  retreated  to 
the  window  to  consult  the  elements  about  it  when 
she  discerned  the  dim  figure  of  a  man  fighting  his 
way  slowly  up  the  street. 

The  color  deepened  in  her  cheeks,  but  she  was 
writing  at  high  pressure  when  Dr.  Challoner 
entered  after  his  usual  prefatory  tap.  He  sat 
down,  stretching  himself  out  in  the  easy  chair  with 
a  sigh  of  contentment.  "  Make  yourself  at  home, 
Bruin,"  said  Mrs.  Brand  kindly. 

Early  in  their  acquaintance  she  had  dubbed  him 

48 


MRS.    BRAND  49 

"  Bruin."  "  Don't  you  know,"  she  said,  "  there 
are  certain  perfumes  associated  in  our  minds  with 
people  and  experiences  long  since  passed  and 
gone,  the  faintest  whiff  of  which  will  bring  the 
past  back  so  vividty  that  for  the  moment  we  for- 
get the  present^  I  feel  just  that  way  about  you. 
Your  tread  is  suggestive.  I  never  hear  you  com- 
ing without  thinking  of  the  forest  primeval,  and 
the  airy  grace  of  the  mastodon  and  megatherium. 
There  is  something  positively  artistic  in  the  way 
you  preserve  your  atmosphere  against  the  assaults 
of  time.  But  we'll  compromise  on  'Bruin.'  ' 

For  he  was  a  great  six-foot  athlete  with  a 
tendency  to  dispose  his  person  promiscuously  in 
places  manifestly  not  intended  for  it.  One  never 
thought  of  his  looks,  which  was  a  pity,  perhaps, 
for  even  in  their  immaturity  they  were  full  of 
promise  for  the  time  when  beauty  of  features 
should  have  become  dependent  upon  beauty  of 
character. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  now*? "  suggested  Mrs. 
Brand,  as  the  doctor  seemed  content  to  sit  silently, 
his  gray  eyes  fixed  upon  her  with  a  concentrated 
stare  which  threatened  to  become  monotonous. 


50  MRS.    BRAND 

"  One  would  think  I  was  a  new  kind  of  microbe." 

Dr.  Challoner  laughed.  "  I  wasn't  even  think- 
ing about  you." 

"Oh,  Bruin!"  She  sighed.  "You're  too 
candid." 

"  Fortunately  not  all  your  friends  are  open  to 
that  accusation.  Mr.  Overholt,  for  instance." 
Dr.  Challoner  gazed  impersonally  at  the  fire.  A 
little  ripple  of  laughter  greeted  his  remark. 

"  Now,  Bruin,  you're  jealous." 

"  Oh,  I  grant  you  there's  nothing  subtle  about 
me.  I'll  just  tell  you  what  I  think  about  that 
fellow.  He's  an  everlasting  fraud,  that's  what 
he  is." 

"  I've  seen  this  accumulating  for  a  long  time," 
said  Mrs.  Brand. 

"  You  have !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  astonish- 
ment. "  But  I've  never  opened  my  mouth  about 
the  man." 

"  You  didn't  need  to,  Bruin.  That's  the  charm 
of  a  sensitive  organization  like  yours.  Your  opin- 
ion of  him  just  dripped  from  every  pore." 

"  Cecily,  you're  cruel !  It's  kind  of  hard  on  me 
that  you  should  be  able  to  kick  off  my  sentiments 


MRS.    BRAND  51 

so  neatly,  when  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  get  on 
the  trail  of  yours." 

Mrs.  Brand  laughed  lightly.  "  That's  odd,  for 
I've  experienced  the  same  difficulty  myself.  But 
you  must  admit  that  he's  kind." 

"Oh,  yes." 

"  And  generous." 

"  Ye-es." 

"  And  handsome." 

"Now,  there " 

"  Never  mind  theorizing  Bruin,  for  the  case 
doesn't  demand  it,  and  I  see  that  you're  preju- 
diced." 

"Hash!" 

"  And  pious." 

"  That  depends  upon  the  meaning  you " 

"  Pious,  I  said.  If  I  had  meant  good  I  should 
have  said  so." 

"  Oh,  yes,  pious." 

"  And  brilliant." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  a  born  orator." 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,  my  dear  boy,  what  more  can  you  ask4?  " 


52  MRS.    BRAND 

"  What  more  can  I  ask?  "  repeated  the  doctor, 
gustily.  Then  he  fell  into  a  resentful  silence,  but 
when  he  finally  spoke  again  he  startled  Mrs.  Brand 
out  of  her  smiling  study  of  him.  "  That  little 
woman's  dying,  and  a  lot  he  cares !  " 

"What  little  woman  9  "  she  inquired,  sharply. 

"  Mrs.  Overholt.  He  sent  word  yesterday  that 
he  would  like  me  to  call.  I  wondered  a  good 
deal,  but  of  course  it  was  my  business  to  go,  and 
I  went.  It  appears  he's  been  consulting  some 
quack  down  town  about  her,  so  that  if  there  ever 
was  a  chance  to  save  her  it's  gone  now." 

"  Oh,  but  nonsense,  Bruin.  I  haven't  seen  her 
for  a  week,  but  she  was  so  bright  then." 

"  I  dare  say,"  he  replied  indifferently.  "  As 
soon  as  I  found  out  how  immediately  serious  her 
condition  was  I  told  him  I  should  like  to  meet 
Dr.  Bradbury  in  consultation.  I  even  intimated 
that  I  was  surprised  at  his  not  having  called  Dr. 
Bradbury  in  the  first  place  —  a  member  of  his 
own  church.  He  just  looked  me  up  and  down, 
and  said  coolly, '  Will  you  kindly  allow  me  a  pref- 
erence in  the  matter1?  I  did  not  call  you  in  to 
undertake  Mrs.  Overholt's  case  without  entire  con- 


MRS.    BRAND  53 

fidence  in  your  ability,  and  I  do  not  think  we  need 
to  quarrel,  because  I  intend  to  believe  in  her 
recovery. ' 

"  It  is  her  lungs,  you  know.  I  told  him  plainly 
at  last  that  I  saw  no  prospects  of  her  living  more 
than  a  few  weeks  unless  a  miracle  was  wrought. 
He  smiled  quite  pleasantly,  and  said  he  had  never 
found  the  acceptance  of  miracles  a  stumbling- 
block.  I  tell  you  it  was  queer." 

"  I  don't  think  you  understand  him  altogether." 

"  No,  I  guess  I  don't!  "  retorted  Dr.  Challoner, 
explosively. 

"  He  has  a  very  hopeful  disposition,  and  of 
course  he  wants  to  believe  the  best.  But  how  — 
why,  he  was  here  last  night."  Mrs.  Brand  broke 
off  suddenly.  "  And  he  never  said  a  word  about 
this,  not  even  when  I  inquired  for  Mrs.  Overholt." 
She  looked  at  the  doctor  in  perplexity.  "  And  he 
was  here  so  long!  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  there  is  anything  particularly 
exhilarating  in  the  society  of  a  sick  wife." 

"  But  I  am  appalled,"  said  Mrs.  Brand,  in  real 
distress.  "  Poor  little  Chrys !  Whatever  will 
they  do?  Oh,  Bruin,  you  must  be  mistaken." 


54  MRS.    BRAND 

"  No,  I'm  not.  It's  just  one  of  those  wild  fire 
cases  that  don't  give  science  any  show." 

They  discussed  the  matter  for  a  while,  and  then 
Dr.  Challoner  said,  as  he  stood  waiting  to  go, 
"  'Tisn't  fair,  is  it?  I  come  in  here  and  reveal 
all  the  family  secrets  of  the  O'Flahertys  and 
Nemeceks  because  they  live  on  Moon  Street,  but 
I  have  felt  the  greatest  compunctions  at  talking 
about  the  Overholts." 

"  Well,  you  needn't  worry.  I  could  tell  you  a 
great  many  more  and  stranger  things  about  Eugene 
Overholt  than  you  will  ever  be  able  to  tell  me." 
In  the  very  instance  of  speaking  Mrs.  Brand 
winced  at  the  indiscretion  which  let  slip  so  danger- 
ous a  boomerang  as  that  remark  might  prove. 
But  Arthur  was  notedly  unobservant,  and  would 
probably  never  recall  it.  And  he  did  not  until 
he  was  half  way  to  the  city. 

Dr.  Challoner's  mother  had  been  left  a  widow 
when  the  boy  was  about  fifteen  years  old  with 
just  sufficient  means  to  equip  him  thoroughly  for 
the  profession  he  elected  to  follow.  That  she 
should  die  before  his  return  from  abroad  seemed 
a  cruel  dispensation,  but  her  impetuous  spirit 


MRS.    BRAND  55 

would  have  chafed  sorely  under  the  years  of 
apprenticeship  to  obscurity,  which  he  must  serve 
before  he  should  climb  the  heights  of  fame  on 
which  she  already  saw  him  fixed.  Between  the 
young  man  and  Mr.  Brand  there  was  no  closer  tie 
than  the  fact  that  the  first  Mrs.  Brand  and  his 
mother  had  been  sisters,  which  was,  moreover,  a 
stronger  bond  than  either  of  them  realized,  for 
around  the  memory  of  his  early  experiences  there 
had  crystallized  all  the  genuinely  tender  senti- 
ment the  millionaire  had  ever  known.  It  was  not 
strange  that  the  young  man,  bereaved,  and  hesi- 
tant on  the  verge  of  an  unknown  future,  should 
feel  somewhat  disconcerted  at  finding  that  his 
uncle's  grave  old  house,  which  for  all  the  years 
that  he  could  remember  had  been  subject  to  the 
rectangular  sway  of  a  staid  housekeeper,  had 
undergone  a  startling  transformation.  That  his 
uncle  should  marry  did  not  appear  to  him  out  of 
the  way,  but  that  he  should  marry  as  he  had  was 
decidedly  so.  But  contrary  to  his  forebodings  he 
and  his  "  Aunt  Cecily  "  soon  became  fast  friends. 
"  How  could  I  help  liking  you*?  "  she  said  to  him 
afterwards,  "  when  you  were  so  evidently  over- 


56  MRS.    BRAND 

come  by  my  charms.  Do  you  remember  that  first 
breakfast  when  you  pressed  me  to  try  a  few  fried 
potatoes  on  my  porridge1?  It  was  such  a  relief  to 
the  situation." 

At  no  period  of  his  career  could  the  friendship 
of  a  clever  woman  have  been  as  valuable  to  him 
as  it  was  just  then.  To  be  sure,  he  did  not  recog- 
nize the  extent  or  the  quality  of  Mrs.  Brand's 
influence  upon  him.  Nor  was  she  capable  of  an 
adequate  analysis  of  the  delicate  complexities  of 
a  character  at  whose  apparent  simplicity  she  some- 
times laughed.  But  she  criticized  him  more  judi- 
cially than  a  sister  might  have  done,  and  her 
admiration  for  him,  while  less  saccharine  than  a 
sweetheart's,  was  happily  more  discriminating.  As 
for  Mr.  Brand,  he  was  probably  destined  to  go  to 
his  grave  without  realizing  how  largely  the  tenor 
of  his  way  owed  its  evenness  to  his  nephew,  who 
had  come  into  his  wife's  life  at  a  time  when  the 
dignity  of  her  position  had  lost  its  savor  and  when 
she  was  growing  perilously  conscious  of  increas- 
ing reservations  regarding  her  husband  and  her 
relations  to  him.  In  the  companionship  of  a 
spirit  young  and  enthusiastic  like  her  own  she 


MRS.    BRAND  57 

found  relief  from  the  pressure  of  unwelcome 
thoughts.  They  discussed  each  new  experience 
with  the  ardor  of  amateurs,  and  Mr.  Brand  sanely 
rejoiced  that  his  wife  had  found  an  outlet  for 
enthusiasms  with  which  he  was  not  contemporary. 
For  the  first  few  months  after  his  return  from 
abroad  Dr.  Challoner  had  remained  at  the  Brands', 
his  uncle  being  anxious  that  he  should  take  root 
in  Glenedge.  And  no  doubt,  he  could  in  time 
have  filched  a  practice  from  the  misfortunes  of 
physicians  who  permitted  their  patients  to  put 
on  a  premature  immortality,  or  went  so  far  as  to 
mistake  Mrs.  Maule's  alarming  symptoms  for 
those  of  common  hysterics,  the  sequel  of  sundry 
remarks  of  her  husband  on  the  subject  of  sealskin 
coats  and  spring  bonnets.  From  a  desire  to  be 
dutiful,  the  young  man  patiently  sampled  the  sit- 
uation for  a  while,  and  then  broke  loose  from  it 
with  a  gasp  of  relief,  and  went  deliberately  down 
into  the  maelstrom  of  sin  and  suffering  from  which 
he  felt  his  call.  And  he  had  ever  since  exulted  in 
his  choice.  That  was  three  or  four  years  ago,  and 
now  at  thirty-two  he  felt  himself  rich  in  expe- 
rience, and  strong  in  his  grasp  of  convictions 


58  MRS.    BRAND 

hitherto  dimly  apprehended.  At  first  Mr.  Brand 
had  been  disgusted  with  the  whole  proceeding,  but 
as  time  went  on  he  saw  clearly  that  "  the  boy  " 
had  gauged  his  mission  well,  and  that  he  had  in 
him,  moreover,  the  stuff  from  which  a  hero 
springs.  And  there  were  times  when  the  old  man 
swelled  with  pride  which  he  would  not  have 
admitted  even  to  himself. 

Two  or  three  times  a  week  Dr.  Challoner  would 
come  tumbling  in  upon  Mrs.  Brand,  sometimes 
with  a  tempest  at  his  tongue's  end  and  fury  in  his 
eye.  Then  he  would  begin  to  apostrophize  her 
"  like  Demosthenes  before  he  wore  a  pebble,"  she 
told  him  once.  "  Why  do  you  stutter  and  stamp 
at  me1?  I'm  not  the  chosen  figurehead  of  all  the 
corporations  and  cruelties  in  the  world.  Go  home 
at  once,  or  no,  better  still,  sit  down  here  and  write 
out  that  man's  story  exactly  as  you  have  told  it  to 
me.  Don't  write  an  article.  Nobody  cares  a  pin 
for  you  or  your  theories." 

"  That's  just  like  a  woman,"  he  growled. 
"  Totally  unable  to  contemplate  the  abstract." 

"  Women  and  editors,  Bruin,"  she  retorted 
unmoved. 


MRS.    BRAND  59 

The  next  day  she  always  carried  or  sent  the 
manuscript  down  to  the  editor  of  one  of  the  great 
dailies,  he  being  a  personal  friend  of  her  hus- 
band's, and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  it 
immediately  in  print. 

"  That's  like  their  cheek !  "  said  the  doctor  when 
she  showed  it  to  him  in  triumph.  "  They've  cut 
out  the  best  parts  of  it." 

She  smiled  a  good  deal  to  herself  about  that, 
but  she  soothed  his  anathemas  with  the  innocence 
of  an  infant  dove.  After  the  acceptance  of  one 
of  these  stories  Dr.  Challoner  was  amazed  at 
receiving  a  request  for  a  series  of  six  such  studies 
to  be  published  under  the  title  of  "  Snap-shots  in 
the  Slums."  The  title  was  something  of  a  shock 
to  a  nature  un journalistic  in  its  bent,  but  he  sub- 
mitted to  it  for  the  sake  of  the  cause  he  had  made 
his,  and  from  time  to  time  these  pathetic  sketches 
appeared  and  made  a  place  for  themselves  in  the 
minds  of  thoughtful  men. 

Directly  after  breakfast  the  morning  following 
Dr.  Challoner's  visit,  Mrs.  Brand  hurried  to  the 
parsonsage  where  the  minister  and  his  family  had 
been  comfortably  installed  some  weeks  before. 


60  MRS.    BRAND 

Her  sympathy  for  them  all  swept  her  manner  free 
from  embarrassment  as  she  explained  her  errand 
to  Mr.  Overholt. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  I  could  help  you  in  some 
way,  for  my  heart  aches  for  your  wife  and  poor 
little  Chrys,"  she  concluded  simply. 

"And  me?"  he  inquired  bending  towards  her 
with  a  smile  that  carried  with  it  so  little  sugges- 
tion of  foreboding  that  she  stared  at  him  blankly. 
But  a  moment  later  she  flushed  with  mortification, 
for  his  next  remark  seemed  to  imply  a  rebuke  that 
she  felt  her  manner  must  have  courted. 

"  I  know  that  you,"  he  said  gravely,  "  can 
understand  from  what  Dr.  Challoner  told  you 
what  a  burden  of  anxiety  I  am  carrying  just  now, 
and  how  difficult  it  is  to  remember  that  I  have  no 
right  to  cast  the  shadow  of  my  personal  sorrow 
over  my  people." 

"  Oh,  I  know  it  must  be  terrible  for  you,"  she 
said  impetuously.  "  You  must  let  me  be  all  the 
help  I  can  to  you.  Isn't  there  anything  I  could 
do  for  Mrs.  Overholt  this  morning?  " 

"  Perhaps  she  would  like  to  see  you.  I  will  go 
and  find  out  how  she  feels." 


MRS.    BRAND  61 

A  faint  smile  flickered  across  his  face  as  he  went 
up-stairs.  But  there  was  no  sign  of  it  when  he 
came  down  again,  saying  that  Mrs.  Overholt 
would  be  so  glad  if  Mrs.  Brand  cared  to  come  up. 

It  was  a  wan,  little  face  that  looked  up  from 
the  pillows  at  the  tall  and  radiant  woman  beside 
the  bed.  The  dainty  Dresden  China  Shepherdess 
effect  was  all  gone;  in  the  wide  eyes  there  was 
that  wistful  plea  for  sympathy  that  one  sees  some- 
times in  the  eyes  of  a  hurt  animal.  Mrs.  Brand 
was  shocked  at  the  change  in  the  little  woman, 
and  dropping  on  her  knees  beside  her,  she  took 
the  transparent  bits  of  hands  in  her  own  so  firm 
and  warm. 

"  Why,  my  dear,"  she  said  in  her  round,  rich 
voice,  "  whatever  do  you  mean  by  acting  like 
this*?  You  needn't  suppose  that  we're  going  to 
let  you  put  on  airs  and  graces  and  lie  here  at 
your  ease  when  all  the  rest  of  the  world  has  to 
be  up  and  doing." 

"  Yes,  I'll  soon  be  better.  I  don't  know  why 
Dr.  Challoner  won't  let  me  get  up." 

"  Oh,  that's  because  it's  been  such  horrible, 
blustery  weather." 


62  MRS.    BRAND 

On  the  other  side  of  the  bed  stood  Mr.  Over- 
holt,  a  silent  watcher  of  the  scene  before  him. 
The  scant  figure  of  his  little  wife,  her  pallid  face 
with  its  sharpened  outlines,  what  a  background  it 
gave  to  the  curve  and  color  of  the  woman  bend- 
ing over  her ! 

It  may  have  been  the  irritating  sense  of  those 
cool,  blue  eyes  upon  her  or  something  subtler  that 
made  Mrs.  Brand  say  sharply,  "  Go  back  to  your 
sermon,  please.  We  women  want  a  chance  to  be 
foolish  if  we  choose,  and  we  can't  if  you  stand 
there  taking  impressions  of  us." 

Mr.  Overholt  shrugged  his  shoulders.  When 
he  reached  his  study  he  lighted  a  cigar,  and  kicked 
over  his  waste-paper  basket. 

"Confound  her  impudence!"  he  ejaculated, 
and  felt  relief. 

"  Yonfound  her  imp' ness !  "  repeated  a  little 
voice  behind  him. 

He  whirled  round  on  his  chair,  and  there  in 
the  corner  sat  McMichael  composedly  fitting  a 
garment  of  the  Mother  Hubbard  species  to  his 
sailor  doll. 

"  Yonfound  her  imp'ness !  "  reiterated  the  child, 


MRS.    BRAND  63 

apparently  enamored  of  the  phrase  and  anxious 
to  commit  it  to  memory. 

"  Confound  you  for  an  omnipresent  imp !  " 
said  his  father  laughing.  "  What  are  you  always 
turning  up  for  like  a  bad  penny?  " 

"  'Cause  Hilda  fell  into  the  oven,"  replied 
McMichael  with  the  air  of  one  possessed  of  a 
grievance. 

"  Because  you  pushed  her  in,  you  mean,  and  she 
sent  you  up  here  in  the  hopes  of  escaping  with 
her  life.  Now  you  must  be  a  very  good  boy  and 
not  speak  while  Papa  writes  his  sermon." 

Mr.  Overholt's  homiletical  ardors  did  not,  how- 
ever, prevent  his  hearing,  after  a  while,  the  light 
opening  and  shutting  of  his  wife's  door,  and  in  an 
instant  he  was  on  the  landing. 

"  Mrs.  Brand,  I  should  like  a  moment  if  you 
can  spare  it,"  he  said  gently. 

She  hesitated.  But  at  that  moment  McMichael 
added  himself  to  the  proceedings,  and  precipitat- 
ing himself  upon  her  with  a  welcome  for  which 
she  was  not  primed,  she  capitulated,  and  sat  down 
in  the  chair  that  Mr.  Overholt  drew  forward  for 
her.  The  little  lad  climbed  confidently  upon  her 


64  MRS.    BRAND 

lap,  and  promptly  began  a  search  for  hidden 
treasure. 

"  Well,  Chrys,  what  thoughts  that  are  dark 
and  tricks  that  are  vain  are  distracting  your  cor- 
rugated little  head  just  now*?  " 

"  Want  your  tick-clock,"  he  replied,  sturdily. 
And  then,  with  a  change  of  tone  that  was  simply 
glaring  in  its  manifest  design,  he  said  lugubri- 
ously, "  I  had  a  headache  in  my  toof  the  day  after 
to-morrow." 

Of  course  they  laughed,  and  of  course  the  watch 
came  forth,  and  McMichael  forgot  alike  his  wiles 
and  his  woes.  Then  Mrs.  Brand  turned  to  Mr. 
Overholt  and  began  to  speak  of  his  wife. 

"  I  know  so  little  about  illness  that  I  cannot  be 
a  fair  judge,  but  it  would  seem  to  me  most  alarm- 
ing that  she  has  lost  ground  so  suddenly." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true.  But  she  has  been  ill  so 
many  times  since  our  marriage,  quite  as  seriously 
as  now,  though  not  in  the  same  way." 

She  found  him  just  as  Dr.  Challoner  had  de- 
scribed, calm  and  confident  in  his  own  opinion, 
and  quite  indifferent  about  any  other.  She  felt 
suddenly  foolish  and  out  of  place,  as  she  had 


MRS.    BRAND  65 

nothing  but  sympathy  to  offer,  and  it  was  appar- 
ently uncalled  for. 

"  Come,  Chrys,"  she  said  to  the  child  cuddling 
against  her,  "  you  must  let  me  go  now."  Her 
heart  was  full  of  a  dim  sense  of  outrage,  and  she 
could  not  know  how  abrupt  to  the  little  boy  was 
his  descent  from  Paradise.  He  went  slowly  back 
to  his  corner,  and  sat  down  on  his  dolly  with  a 
bump,  that  was  ruin  to  the  one  and  mortification 
to  the  other.  It  was  too  much.  With  a  wail  he 
broke  forth,  "  Oh,  I  so  lonely !  I  so  lonely  all 
by  I-self." 

In  an  instant  Mrs.  Brand  was  beside  him. 
"  Why,  you  poor  mite !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What- 
ever is  the  matter*?  " 

"  Wipe  my  tears,"  he  said,  pitifully,  and  she 
humbly  mopped  up  the  flood  of  which  she  felt 
herself  to  be  the  bitter  spring.  Then  she  stood  up 
again,  his  little  hand  tightly  clasping  hers,  but  she 
felt  perplexed.  Poor  little  Chrys!  He  looked 
neglected  —  yes,  dirty;  not  at  all  as  his  dainty 
little  mother  kept  him.  All  at  once  there  came 
to  her  an  inspiration. 

"  Mr.    Overholt,    I    wonder  —  I    don't    know 


66  MRS.    BRAND 

whether  you  would  like  it,  but  suppose  you  let 
me  take  Chrys  home  with  me  and  keep  him  for 
a  while.  I  really  don't  see  how  you  can  manage 
with  him  just  now." 

"  How  kind  of  you,"  said  Mr.  Overholt,  grate- 
fully. "  But  you  would  find  him  an  awful  pest. 
And  yet  it  would  be  a  relief  to  me  to  know  that 
he  was  happy  and  properly  cared  for.  I  really 
am  driven  to  death,"  he  continued  with  a  sigh, 
and  Mrs.  Brand  noticed  with  remorse  how  hag- 
gard and  drawn  he  looked  just  then.  "  Dr.  Chal- 
loner  is  to  send  us  a  nurse  to-day,  and  perhaps 
after  this  I  shall  not  have  such  broken  nights. 
But  even  then,  with  my  sermons  to  prepare  for 
the  inevitable  Sunday,  and  a  couple  of  lectures 
pressing,  and  the  everlasting  jangle  of  the  door- 
bell, with  its  unexpected  demands  upon  my 
time  —  oh !  it's  enough  to  drive  a  man  mad." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  stand  it  at  all." 

"  And  my  poor  wife,  lying  wearily  hour  after 
hour  alone,  wondering  why  I  don't  come  and  talk 
to  her." 

"That  must  be  the  hardest  thing  of  all,"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Brand,  with  quick  pity  for  them 


MRS.    BRAND  67 

both.  This  little  glimpse  behind  the  scenes  was 
strong  in  its  appeal  to  her  sympathies,  for  she  had 
never  thought  of  the  penalties  attached  to  popu- 
larity; that  the  acquiring  of  a  reputation  should 
carry  with  it  the  sting  that  one  should  never  fall 
below  it  became  suddenly  clear  to  her,  and  her 
heart  softened  towards  the  man  whose  audiences 
swayed  beneath  his  eloquence. 

"  Yonfound  her  imp'ness!"  chanted  Mc- 
Michael,  seeing  an  opportunity  to  stop  a  conver- 
sational gap  to  his  own  glory.  "  Papa  said  that," 
he  continued,  from  a  kindly  desire  to  enlighten 
his  friend. 

Mrs.  Brand  looked  at  Mr.  Overholt  in  momen- 
tary embarrassment,  and  then  her  lips  twitched 
with  comprehension.  "  Oh,  that's  charming!  "  she 
exclaimed  in  a  burst  of  laughter,  in  which  Mc- 
Michael  and  his  victim  joined.  "  Come  away, 
child,"  she  said,  tragically.  "  You'll  ruin  your 
father's  reputation.  Just  think  if  I  had  been 
Mrs.  Crumpet !  " 


CHAPTER  V 

IN  the  agitated  weeks  that  followed  her  first  meet- 
ing with  her  old  lover,  Mrs.  Brand  left  far  behind 
her  the  placid  sequences  of  a  life  that  had  often 
oppressed  her.  The  convictions  which  a  few 
months  before  had  been  so  neatly  arranged  in  her 
mind,  loomed  up  before  her  now  in  a  jumble  of 
contradictions.  She  realized  dimly  that  she  could 
no  longer  define  Mr.  Overholt  and  her  attitude 
towards  him,  and  her  consciousness  of  this  was 
weighted  with  a  vague  alarm.  Her  position  and 
his  in  relation  to  each  other  she  did  not  think 
incomprehensible,  but  what  was  it  in  the  man 
himself  that  provoked  her  to  incessant  surmise? 
Now,  there  was  Arthur  —  the  thought  of  him 
brought  a  smile  to  her  tense  lips.  "  Oh,  yes,  he's 
just  as  good  —  "  Good"?  Why  was  that  the  very 
last  word  she  would  ever  choose  to  describe  the 
other  man.  For  he  glowed  with  the  enthusiasm  of 
faith,  and  she  had  felt  herself  unwillingly  thrilled 

68 


MRS.    BRAND  69 

by  his  power  in  presenting  "  their  side  of  the 
question."  She  knew  pretty  well  where  Arthur 
stood  on  religious  matters,  though  he  rarely 
touched  upon  them,  and  his  position  she  consid- 
ered a  kind  of  weak-kneed  compromise.  "  Charac- 
ter "  and  "  Duty  "  were  cold-blooded  terms  and 
contrasted  ill  as  a  gospel  with  one  of  glowing 
imagery  and  dramatic  emotion.  Character  —  it 
was  a  mere  matter  of  environment,  and  duty  was 
simply  some  other  person's  ideal  coercively  ap- 
plied to  his  neighbor.  Her  lips  curled  as  her 
mind  dwelt  in  pungent  reminiscences  upon  the 
days  when  she  had  worn  the  yoke  of  Aunt  Lavinia. 

Chrys  was  duly  installed  a  member  of  the 
Brand  household,  and  speedily  won  from  it  a 
deference  to  his  lightest  wish,  which  its  master 
characterized  as  "  preposterous."  "  Can't  he  sleep 
with  Jane?"  he  inquired,  protesting  against  the 
intrusion  into  his  dressing-room  of  a  little  white 
bed. 

"  Certainly  not !  "  replied  his  wife,  severely. 
"  I'm  responsible  for  him,  and  must  have  him 
near  me." 


70  MRS.    BRAND 

"  Going  to  sit  up  nights  beside  him,  I  suppose," 
said  Mr.  Brand,  grimly. 

Chrys  unconsciously  plied  all  his  sweetest  arts 
upon  this  distinguished  foe,  for  whom  he  seemed 
to  feel  an  especial  admiration.  One  morning  he 
climbed  ou*  of  his  little  crib,  and,  pattering  coldly 
across  the  floor,  he  leaned  over  and  softly  kissed 
the  old  man's  cheek.  Mr.  Brand  started  as  if  he 
had  been  stung,  and,  staring  angrily  at  the  dimin- 
utive figure  beside  him,  he  growled  out,  "  What 
under  the  canopy  do  you  want  now*?  " 

"  I  will  get  into  bed  with  you  if  you  like," 
replied  Chrys,  cweetly,  as  one  conferring  a  favor. 

"  But  I  don't  like,"  retorted  Mr.  Brand,  em- 
phatically, still  smarting  from  the  touch  of  those 
soft  lips. 

"  Then  you're  a  beastly  man !  "  exclaimed  the 
oi^raged  child,  as  he  retired  precipitately  to  his 
own  nest,  where  Mrs.  Brand  found  him  sobbing 
quietly  when  she  came  in  from  her  dressing-room. 

"  Whatever  can  have  happened? "  she  said 
wonderingly  to  her  husband,  who  vouchsafed  no 
explanation,  bein^r  seized  with  sudden  fright  as 
to  the  light  in  which  his  conduct  might  be  viewed. 


MRS.    BRAND  71 

But  he  carried  with  him  to  business  that  morn- 
ing a  vague  sense  of  discomfort,  which  harried  him 
through  the  long  day,  and  which  he  vainly  sought 
to  smother  by  dwelling  on  the  alarming  depravity 
of  so  young  a  child.  "  Dreadful  language  for 

such  a  little  boy.    Why,  when  I  was  a  boy " 

And  it  was  no  doubt  the  soothing  contrast  afforded 
by  his  own  record  that  prompted  him  on  his  way 
home  that  evening  to  pause  suddenly  in  front  of 
a  frivolous  looking  store  and  plunge  in  quickly 
with  the  furtive  air  of  an  escaping  criminal. 
"  Give  me  the  best  five-pound  box  of  candy  you've 
got,"  he  said,  guiltily.  But  when  the  girl  pre- 
sented it  for  his  inspection  he  was  not  satisfied, 
and  she  found  him  so  hard  to  please  that  when  he 
finally  departed  she  said  to  the  girl  next  to  her, 
"  There  goes  an  old  man  bound  to  get  his  money's 
worth."  But  she  was  wrong  that  time.  He  had 
simply  been  trying  to  see  that  box  of  candy 
through  the  eyes  of  a  little  child,  and  it  is  a  seri- 
ous thing  to  have  one's  reputation  subject  to  the 
limits  of  a  few  square  inches.  "  Perhaps  he  won't 
come  near  me,"  he  thought,  apprehensively,  as  his 
big  house  loomed  up  before  him.  But  there  was 


72  MRS.    BRAND 

no  room  yet  in  Chrys'  wholesome,  little  heart  for 
the  cherishing  of  a  grudge.  Dr.  Challoner  had 
dropped  in  for  dinner,  as  he  occasionally  did,  and 
the  child  looked  up  eagerly  from  his  seat  upon  the 
doctor's  knee  to  shout  in  his  piercing  treble  as  Mr. 
Brand  came  into  the  sitting-room,  "  Oh,  Uncle 
Brand,  do  you  know  we  are  going  to  have  scarlet 
roosters  for  dessert1?  I  saw  Jane  taking  them 
out  of  a  white  box." 

"  Charlotte  russe,"  laughed  Mrs.  Brand. 

"  Well,  McMichael,"  said  Mr.  Brand,  desper- 
ately grasping  at  an  opportunity  which  must  not 
be  let  slip,  "  go  into  the  hall  and  see  if  there  isn't 
another  white  box  out  there." 

The  child  slipped  down  and  did  as  he  was  bid, 
bringing  back  the  parcel  with  him. 

"  Now  you  may  si't  down  and  open  it,"  said  Mr. 
Brand,  conscious  of  a  wild  anxiety  lest  his  offer- 
ing should  pale  in  attractiveness  beside  the  "  Scar- 
let Roosters." 

It  took  a  long  while  for  the  little  fingers  to  do 
the  work,  but  at  last  the  wrapping  fell  off,  and 
as  the  bright,  pretty  box  came  into  view,  Mrs. 
Brand  and  the  doctor  glanced  at  each  other  with 


MRS.    BRAND  73 

amusement.  For  Mr.  Brand,  deserved  as  was  his 
reputation  for  large-handed  generosity,  was  sin- 
gularly opposed  to  those  trivial  but  precious 
expressions  of  good  will  that  are  the  small  change 
of  friendship.  "  If  I  need  anything  I  can  buy  it," 
he  would  say.  "  And  what  I  don't  need  I  don't 
want  anybody  else  to  buy  for  me "  —  which 
would  be  sensible,  indeed,  if  hearts  were  heads. 

In  the  meantime  Chrys  stood  regarding  the  box 
in  an  ecstasy  too  great  for  utterance.  His  little 
mother,  in  spite  of  her  mental  limitations,  or 
perhaps  because  of  them,  had  clung  with  astonish- 
ing tenacity  to  a  few  basic  truths  about  the  train- 
ing of  children,  with  the  result  that  the  child  had 
not  had  the  sensations  of  a  century  crammed  into 
his  four  short  years,  and  would  willingly  have 
sold  himself  for  a  lollypop,  with  tender  qualms  of 
conscience  at  his  bargain. 

"  Take  off  the  cover,"  said  Mr.  Brand,  begin- 
ning to  find  more  enjoyment  in  the  little  scene 
than  he  could  have  believed  possible. 

The  child  tipped  it  off  slowly,  and  then  with 
but  a  glance  at  the  sweetness  within  he  replaced 
it  firmly,  and  walked  with  a  Napoleonic  air  to 


74  MRS.    BRAND 

the  farthest  corner  of  the  room,  where  he  seated 
himself  flat  upon  the  floor,  and  apparently  became 
lost  in  a  minutely  critical  study  of  the  carpet. 
Mr.  Brand  looked  the  image  of  despair,  and  would 
have  spoken  had  not  his  wife  laid  a  restraining 
hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Let  him  alone,  or  you'll  spoil  it  all." 
Since  when  had  she  become  an  authority  on 
the  subject  of  children  and  their  humors'?  Mr. 
Brand  was  tired,  and  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
looking  through  half-closed  eyes  at  his  wife.  How 
different  she  was  lately.  Only  the  other  night  he 
had  heard  her  voice  mingling  with  the  lisping 
tones  of  Chrys'  evening  prayer,  a  thing  almost 
incredible.  "  A  little  child  shall  lead  them  "  came 
into  his  mind,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  the  cloth- 
ing of  his  emotions  in  scriptural  phraseology,  and 
then  a  strange  thought  pierced  him  like  an 
arrow  —  could  it  be  that  he  had  not  altogether 
understood  her? 

"There,  now,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brand,  softly. 
For  the  child,  with  averted  eyes  and  a  delicious 
affectatic  a  of  unconsciousness,  was  drawing  stead- 


MRS.    BRAND  75 

ily  nearer  to  the  treasure  which  was  filling  his 
little  being  with  ecstasy. 

He  would  not  even  steal  a  glance  at  the  box, 
but  his  fingers  crept  unerringly  across  the  table 
until  they  rested  upon  the  lid  again.  Only  for 
a  moment,  however,  and  then  he  tiptoed  elab- 
orately back  to  his  corner,  but  not  to  sit  down 
this  time.  He  stood  there  clasping  and  unclasp- 
ing his  hands  in  a  frenzy  of  foretaste  from  which 
he  must  wring  every  drop  of  nectar,  and  then  he 
looked  at  the  table.  It  was  fatal.  With  one  leap 
he  had  spanned  the  gulf  between,  and,  tearing 
the  cover  off  with  ruthless  clutch,  he  seized  the 
biggest,  pinkest  candy,  and  then,  turning  to  Mr. 
Brand,  he  said  in  a  voice  in  which  hope  plainly 
fought  with  fear,  "  For  me?  " 

Mr.  Brand  nodded.  A  burden  had  rolled  off 
his  soul,  and  henceforth  there  was  established 
between  himself  and  Chrys  an  entente  cordiale 
in  which  the  old  man  found  the  keenest  satisfac- 
tion. 

Mr.  Overholt  came  in  nearly  every  day  to  see 
his  boy,  and  the  exquisite  affection  that  existed 
between  them  was  the  one  thing  that  Mrs.  Brand 


76  MRS.    BRAND 

felt  free  to  admire  about  the  minister  without  any 
harassing  checks.  As  a  friend  —  no,  he  never 
could  be  any  woman's  friend ;  as  a  lover  —  ah ! 
she  no  longer  dwelt  upon  her  memories  of  him  in 
that  capacity.  He  persisted  in  speaking  of  him- 
self as  her  pastor,  a  little  joke  that  they  both 
found  droll,  but  which  brought  real  comfort  to 
Mr.  Brand.  For  the  old  man's  anxiety  about 
her  was  growing  upon  him.  He,  himself,  had 
failed,  but  surely  this  man,  with  his  brilliant  way 
of  stating  truths  so  precious  and  imperative,  surely 
he  could  influence  her  to  those  experiences  against 
which  she  had  hitherto  rigidly  set  herself.  So  he 
was  always  glad  to  see  the  minister  come  in  — 
never  dull,  and  full  of  interest  in  people  and 
events;  essentially  a  man  of  the  world  in  his 
beliefs  as  in  his  tailoring.  "  There's  nothing  vis- 
ionary about  that  fellow,"  Mr.  Brand  remarked 
with  complacency.  "  He  knows  as  much  about 
stocks  and  bonds  as  I  do  myself.  It's  too  bad  that 
such  a  business  man  was  spoilt  for  the  making  of 
a  preacher.  But  I  guess  our  church  don't  need  to 
fret  about  that."  For  the  opinions  of  Mesdames 
Crumpet,  Wigley  and  Gasch  and  sundry  of  that 


MRS.    BRAND  77 

ilk  were  certainly  not  shared  by  the  crowding  con- 
gregations, who  testified  to  their  enthusiasm  by 
that  unheard-of  thing,  a  surplus  in  the  ecclesias- 
tical treasury.  A  year  ago  Mr.  Overholt  could 
have  desired  no  keener  triumph,  but  now  that  he 
held  it  in  his  grasp  his  cup  was  not  full.  His 
salary  of  four  thousand  dollars,  which  had  seemed 
in  prospect  princely,  developed  in  retrospect  a 
deplorable  lack  of  "  staying "  qualities.  The 
minister  affected  patrician  tastes,  and  secretly 
scorned  economy  as  a  species  of  indecency.  To  tip 
an  obsequious  waiter  until  the  man's  servile  spine 
bent  low  before  him  was  a  practical  interpretation 
of  the  little  text,  "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than 
to  receive,"  which  filled  him  with  spiritual 
exaltation. 

The  Brand  mansion  had  become  to  him  a  kind 
of  temple  in  which  were  enshrined  those  ideals  of 
success  which  he  never  preached  about,  but  just 
worshiped.  Mr.  Brand  himself  was  a  gilt-edged 
vision  of  what  a  man  might  be  if  —  if  he  only 
could.  And  Mrs.  Brand,  with  her  proud  detach- 
ment from  a  vulgar  world,  inspired  in  him  an 
admiration  which  was  not  prompted  in  the  least 


78  MRS.    BRAND 

by  any  sentimental  regret  for  the  past,  for  he 
realized  with  admirable  appreciation  of  things 
human  in  general  and  of  himself  and  Mrs.  Brand 
in  particular,  that  as  his  wife  she  could  never  have 
possessed  for  him  the  fascinations  which  he  found 
so  potent  in  their  sway  of  him  now.  "  Her  environ- 
ment fits  her  like  a  glove,"  he  thought  in  com- 
placent approval  of  a  result  for  which  he  surely 
deserved  the  credit.  For  if  he  had  followed  her 
up  with  the  celerity  she  had  evidently  expected, 
how  pitiful  would  have  been  the  contrast.  "  She's 
twenty-eight.  If  I  had  married  her  she'd  have 
been  sour  enough  by  this  time."  Which  he  did 
not  mean  at  all  as  a  reflection  upon  himself.  As 
to  the  dangers  of  his  growing  intimacy  with  her  — 
there  weren't  any,  for  he  had  never  known  a 
woman  who  was  so  little  of  a  fool.  He  had  no 
fear  of  her  making  him  the  repository  of  her  mari- 
tal woes,  which  was  the  unfortunate  way  some 
women  had  of  flirting  by  inference,  as  it  were. 
There  were  methods  less  involved.  He  had  been 
afraid  at  first,  but  that  had  been  for  want  of  data 
on  the  subject.  Speaking  broadly,  Mrs.  Brand 
was  a  good  woman,  and  what  was  more  to  the 


MRS.    BRAND  79 

purpose,  she  was  undoubtedly  a  wise  one.  So  he 
felt  comfortably  sure  of  himself  in  a  situation 
about  which  he  had  few  illusions. 

"  Never  mind  me,  Jane,"  he  said  one  afternoon 
to  the  maid  who  opened  the  door  in  response  to 
his  ring,  "  I  will  announce  myself." 

It  was  one  of  those  warm  days,  sweet  with  the 
soft  airs  of  the  coming  spring,  when  the  world 
in  spite  of  bare  branches  and  the  brown  earth 
sets  winter  at  defiance  on  its  own  ground.  Through 
the  open  doors  there  floated  out  to  Mr.  Overholt 
the  sound  of  the  piano,  and  he  stepped  lightly 
through  the  wide,  beautiful  hall  in  pursuit  of  its 
rippling  melody. 

Mrs.  Brand  was  seated  at  the  piano,  sweeping 
the  key-board  with  glancing  ringers.  It  was  one 
of  those  moments  when  she  forgot  the  environ- 
ment that  Mr.  Overholt  admired  so  much,  one  of 
those  blessed  moments  when  she  wandered  far 
out  upon  the  wings  of  her  song  into  those  dim 
regions  where  fact  pales  before  fancy,  and  where 
vision  takes  precedence  of  prophecy.  At  last  she 
paused  with  a  little  sigh,  but  only  to  glide  into 
a  lullaby,  as  light  and  sweet  as  a  baby's  breath. 


80  MRS.    BRAND 

The  sun  streamed  in,  a  golden  shaft  of  light, 
through  an  amber  panel  of  glass  above  her  head, 
and  it  was,  perhaps,  small  wonder  that  Mr.  Over- 
holt,  standing  between  the  portieres  in  patient 
endurance  of  the  music,  felt  himself  repaid  by  the 
picture  at  which  he  gazed.  He  could  not  see  Mrs. 
Brand's  face,  but  the  charming  pose  of  her  figure 
in  a  soft  gown  of  russet  hue  with  a  deep  fichu  of 
creamy  lace  falling  away  from  her  throat,  left 
nothing  further  to  be  desired.  The  lingering  notes 
of  the  lullaby  died  away  into  the  baby's  dreams, 
and  Mrs.  Brand  sat  still,  her  hands  idly  clasped 
in  her  lap. 

"Mrs.  Brand!" 

She  turned  sharply  around,  but  when  she  saw 
her  visitor  she  did  not  offer  him  the  slightest  wel- 
come. He  had  frightened  her  dreadfully,  and  she 
hated  to  be  frightened. 

"Oh,  how  sorry  I  am!  Did  I  startle  you?" 
asked  Mr.  Overholt,  coming  towards  her  with  a 
smile  in  his  eyes. 

But  the  intuition  upon  which  he  prided  himself 
had  played  him  false  this  time,  for  Mrs.  Brand 


MRS.    BRAND  81 

was  in  what  he  later  described  to  himself  as  a 
"  tip-towering  rage." 

"  Who  opened  the  door  to  you"?  "  she  inquired 
with  the  edges  of  her  lips. 

"  Why,  Jane  opened  it  to  me,  as  usual,"  he 
answered,  bravely  enough.  This  was  a  ridiculous 
way  for  a  woman  to  act. 

Mrs.  Brand  stepped  across  the  room  and 
touched  a  bell,  in  answer  to  which  the  maid  pre- 
sented herself. 

"  Will  you  kindly  remember  in  the  future  that 
it  is  your  business  to  show  my  visitors  into  the 
reception-room*?  " 

The  flustered  maid  retired  in  a  condition  of 
stuttering  apology,  only  to  find  the  bell  ready  for 
her  with  another  ring. 

But  it  was  Mr.  Overholt  who  stood  next  to  it 
this  time,  and  when  she  appeared  he  said  kindly, 
"  I  am  sorry  that  I  should  have  got  you  into 
trouble,  Jane.  Will  you  show  me  to  the  recep- 
tion-room?" And  he  followed  her  without  a 
glance  at  Mrs.  Brand.  Once  there  he  took  out 
his  card,  and  said  gravely,  "  Take  that  to  your 
mistress,"  and  Jane  retired  again  with  an  indis- 


82  MRS.    BRAND 

tinct  but  none  the  less  unhappy  conception  of  her- 
self as  a  sort  of  human  shuttlecock. 

Mrs.  Brand  sat  still  for  a  few  minutes 
and  studied  the  visiting  card  with  an  interesting 
variety  of  feelings.  She  even  laughed  a  little. 
But  one  thing  was  clear  —  to  that  reception-room 
she  must  go,  and  she  finally  went  after  she  had 
braced  and  buttressed  her  position  as  well  as  she 
could.  Mr.  Overholt  had  presumed  unpardon- 
ably;  there  could  be  no  two  opinions  about  that. 
But  face  to  face  with  him  again,  her  preparations 
to  meet  him  seemed  ludicrous.  She  felt  as  if  she 
had  been  walking  on  stilts  which  had  suddenly 
been  knocked  from  under  her. 

"  My  wife  has  been  worrying  herself  about  Mc- 
Michael's  clothes,  and  nothing  would  do  but  that 
I  must  come  in  and  find  out  from  you  if  anything 
was  wanted  for  him." 

Could  anything  be  more  levelling  to  one's  "  high 
horse  "  than  this?  She  looked  for  some  gleam  or 
twinkle  of  mirth,  but  the  even  blue  of  Mr.  Over- 
holt's  eyes  betrayed  no  sign  whatever.  He  pro- 
ceeded to  a  discussion  of  Chrys's  wardrobe,  brief 
and  technical,  and  then  went  away  without  the 


MRS.    BRAND  83 

slightest  hint  of  an  apology  for  his  outrageous 
conduct,  having  managed,  indeed,  to  impress  upon 
Mrs.  Brand  that  it  was  she  who  was  in  error.  This 
was  intolerable,  and  she  lay  in  wait  for  him  with 
elaborate  schemes  for  his  undoing,  that  would  no 
doubt  have  succeeded  if  Mr.  Overholt  had  been 
without  schemes  of  his  own.  But  he  had  never 
been  made  so  thoroughly  angry  by  any  woman 
before,  and  he  proposed  that  she  should  purchase 
her  pardon  at  his  own  price.  And  so  a  week 
elapsed  before  she  saw  him  again  at  all,  and 
then  only  for  a  few  moments  one  evening,  during 
which  she  sat  silent  on  the  edge  of  a  conversation 
from  which  she  was  clearly  excluded.  Then 
another  week  went  by  without  the  tete-a-tete  for 
which  she  perversely  planned  whenever  she  got 
a  glimpse  of  him.  She  went  to  the  parsonage 
every  few  days  to  see  Mrs.  Overholt,  but  except 
on  one  occasion,  when  he  left  the  room  immedi- 
ately upon  her  entrance  with  the  briefest  possible 
greeting  of  her,  his  home  was  as  unproductive  of 
his  presence  as  a  potato-patch  might  have  been. 
Then  she  spent  hours  in  convincing  herself  that 
she  "  didn't  care,"  and  Dr.  Challoner,  who  was 


84  MRS.    BRAND 

in  and  out,  as  usual,  was  generally  made  the  vic- 
tim of  this  indifference.  Oh,  how  dull  he  was, 
with  his  work  and  his  people !  She  fairly  detested 
the  whole  thing,  and  told  him  so  in  unmeasured 
terms. 

"  Well,  hang  it  all !  "  he  exclaimed,  desper- 
ately. "  What  do  you  go  enticing  a  fellow  around 
here  for  if  you  don't  want  to  hear  what  he's  got 
to  say*?  "  Whereupon  he  promptly  received  an- 
other volley  of  invective;  it  was  such  a  relief  to  be 
able  to  say  all  one  wanted  to  without  fear  of 
unnatural  consequences. 

But  this  state  of  things  must  not  go  on.  It  was 
ridiculous,  and  she  would  put  an  end  to  it.  That 
was  why  she  went  with  her  husband  to  prayer- 
meeting,  a  thing  whereat  his  soul  rejoiced  and 
took  fresh  courage  for  her  salvation.  After  that, 
indeed,  it  would  not  have  stunned  him  had  she 
led  the  prayers  of  the  church.  But  one  must  be 
patient,  and  not  seek  to  involve  the  spirit  in  undue 
precipitation. 

At  the  close  of  the  meeting  Mr.  Brand  left  her 
to  wait  for  him  while  he  lingered  here  and  there 
discussing  ecclesiastical  business  with  one  and 


MRS.    BRAND  85 

another.  She  sat  still,  feeling  herself  curiously 
foreign  to  these  people  with  a  language  and 
experience  of  which  she  felt  proud  to  be  ignorant. 
She  followed  Mr.  Overholt  with  her  eyes  as  long 
as  she  could,  and  then  reflected  that  his  hat  and 
coat  were  still  there,  and  any  way  he  always 
walked  home  with  Mr.  Brand.  At  last  he  started 
up  the  aisle,  but  two  or  three  women  palpitated 
round  him,  and  he  stopped  to  talk  to  them  beside 
the  seat  on  which  Mrs.  Brand  was  sitting.  What 
would  she  do  if  he  went  by  her  without  speaking ! 
But  he  did  not.  When  he  had  dismissed  those 
odious  women  with  their  grins  and  giggles,  he 
stepped  into  the  seat  in  front,  and,  leaning  over  it, 
held  out  his  hand  with  a  manner  from  which  all 
the  warmth  and  spontaneity  had  departed,  saying, 
"  Ah,  good  evening,  Mrs.  Brand.  How  is  my  boy 
to-day?  " 

"  Just  as  he  always  is  —  the  sweetest  child  in 
the  world."  That  was  not  at  all  what  she  ought 
to  have  said,  and  she  felt  angry  at  the  impulse 
that  had  tipped  her  tongue  with  so  nice  an  utter- 
ance. 


86  MRS.    BRAND 

"  How  kind  you  are !  "  And  then  he  straight- 
ened himself  to  move  on. 

"When  are  you  coming  to  see  us  again?  I 
shall  be  at  home  to-morrow  afternoon."  She 
found  it  harder  than  she  had  thought  to  infuse 
a  casual  air  into  an  invitation  so  direct. 

Before  replying,  Mr.  Overholt  looked  at  her, 
a  faint  smile  chafing  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 
Above  her  velvet  and  furs  her  flushed,  downcast 
face  appealed  to  him  with  the  sense  of  a  new- 
found charm.  But  he  was  greedy  of  conquest, 
and  her  attitude  piqued  him  to  a  further  trial  of 
his  resources. 

"Will  you,  indeed?  That  is  too  bad.  I  be- 
lieve I  have  an  engagement  of  some  kind  myself." 
And  he  turned  lightly  on  his  heel  to  greet  the 
importunity  of  a  badged  and  buttoned  young 
woman,  who  appeared  to  be  the  president  of  a 
set  of  initials  who  were  causing  her  deep  distress 
on  account  of  their  lack  of  spirituality,  "  if  the 
Y.  E.  L.  P.'s  go  sleigh-riding  on  prayer-meeting 
night." 

"  It's  shocking,"  said  Mr.  Overholt.     "  But  I 


MRS.    BRAND  87 

really  think  you  can  handle  that  much  better  than 
I  can.  It  needs  some  one  with  great  tact." 

He  walked  home  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brand. 
She  was  invisible  on  the  further  arm  of  her  hus- 
band, and  if  she  said  good-night  when  they  sepa- 
rated he  was  not  aware  of  it. 

But  whatever  his  intentions  might  have  been  in 
regard  to  calling  upon  her,  Mr.  Overholt  found 
himself  inquiring  for  Mrs.  Brand  shortly  after 
two  o'clock  on  the  following  afternoon.  He 
waited  in  the  reception-room  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  the  maid  reappeared  to  ask  him  to  follow 
her  to  Mrs.  Brand's  sitting-room. 

"  You  must  excuse  my  receiving  you  here.  I 
was  asleep  when  you  came,  and  really  not  a  fit 
object  for  the  reception-room."  She  looked  at  the 
tumbled  pillows  on  the  divan  at  the  foot  of  which 
she  still  sat.  One  cheek  was  pink  and  warm  where 
it  had  pressed  the  cushion,  the  other  quite  pale, 
and  she  spoke  with  the  uncertain  utterance  of  one 
who  still  lingers  on  the  borderland  of  dreams. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  were  disturbed  for  me," 
said  Mr.  Overholt,  seriously.  "  Where  is  Mc- 
Michael'?" 


88  MRS.    BRAND 

"  He's  gone  out  with  Richard,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  he  is  trying  to  beat  Curly  bald.  I  heard 
him  this  morning  confidently  inquiring  of  Mr. 
Brand  why  he  had  rubbed  so  much  hair  off  the 

top  of  his  head." 

"  Yes,   he's   awful,"   admitted   Mr.   Overholt. 

But  not  there  to  discuss  Chrys  and  his^  .doings,  he 
sat  silent  after  his  remark,  lookingjat  Mrs.  Brand 
with  a  cool  persistence  which  she  felt  rather  than 
saw.  From  sheer  nervousness  she  rose  and  crossed 
the  room,  taking  an  easy  chair  near  to  him.  It 
would  certainly  be  easier  to  endure  a  two-foot 
stare  than  one  of  ten  feet. 

"  How  is  Mrs.  Overholt  to-day4?  " 

But  Mr.  Overholt  did  not  reply  to  this  ques- 
tion. He  simply  continued  to  look  at  her. 

"Oh,  mercy!"  she  broke  out,  desperately, 
"  can't  you  speak*?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  quickly.  "  Are  you 
sorry?  " 

"  Sorry !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Sorry,  indeed ! 
Sorry  for  what*? " 

"  Because  you  were  so  cross." 

"Oh,  how  can  you  talk  so!  "  she  said,  sitting 


MRS.    BRAND  89 

up  straight  and  defiant  on  her  chair.  "  You  pre- 
sumed outrageously " 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  lightly.  Then,  with  a 
quick  change  of  tone  as  he  bent  towards  her,  "  that 
is,  if  it  had  been  any  other  woman  but  yourself. 
But  do  you  think  it  possible  to  regulate  things 
between  you  and  me  as  if  we  were  ordinary  friends 
or  acquaintances?  " 

"Why  not?" 

He  waited  a  moment,  and  then  said,  bitterly, 
"  You  can  be  a  very  cruel  woman  when  you 
choose." 

Mrs.  Brand  threw  her  head  against  the  back 
of  her  chair  with  an  impatient  sigh.  She  had  on 
a  white  gown  scattered  all  over  with  violets,  and 
by  a  pretty  conceit  the  subtle  perfume  of  the 
dainty  flowers  themselves  betrayed  itself  about 
her. 

Mr.  Overholt  got  up  to  go.  "  I'm  sorry  I  can't 
see  the  boy.  I  think  he  had  better  come  over  to 
see  his  mother  to-morrow,  perhaps." 

Mrs.  Brand  looked  up  at  him.  "  Don't  go," 
she  said,  softly. 

"  Why  should  I  stay?  "    He  was  not  a  graven 


90  MRS.    BRAND 

image,  and  the  rise  and  fall  of  her  tremulous 
breath,  the  appeal  in  her  dark  eyes  were  influences 
of  the  most  potent  sort  to  him.  He  sat  down 
again,  drawing  his  chair  so  close  to  hers  that 
she  felt  a  vague  alarm. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  want,"  she  said,  rest- 
lessly. "  Are  you  to  be  allowed  to  break  in  upon 
me  whenever  you  choose*?  " 

"  Now  you're  foolish."  He  paused  a  moment. 
"  Do  you  suppose  Challoner  would  have  waited 
in  the  reception-room  until  he  was  formally  an- 
nounced the  other  day4? " 

"  But  that's  different,"  she  said,  quickly.  "  He's 
Mr.  Brand's  nephew." 

"  Ah !  I'm  glad  that  the  relationship  carries 
so  much  weight  with  you." 

Mrs.  Brand  flushed  but  did  not  speak. 

"  No,  indeed,  I  was  not  going  to  wait  with  a 
partition  between  me  and  the  sound  of  your  fin- 
gers when,  by  a  bold  coup  —  de  pied>  shall  I 
say4?  —  I  could  get  inside  the  gates  of  Paradise." 
He  smiled  at  her  with  the  singular  sweetness  of 
expression  which  she  found  so  irresistible  in  his 
child.  "  And  I  didn't  care  a  straw  for  your  fury. 


MRS.    BRAND  91 

I  think  I  would  have  been  willing  to  pin  you  alive 
to  the  canvas  of  time  if  I  could  have  secured  the 
immortality  of  the  picture.  I  never  could  under- 
stand how  people  could  collect  sheets  of  pin-stuck 
moths  and  things  but  if  they  felt  they  were  per- 
petuating beauty  in  those  wings  and  crawls,  I 
think  I  sympathize  with  them.  But  I  needn't 
regret  the  loss  of  that  picture  now,"  he  continued, 
his  eyes  dwelling  on  her  suggestively. 

"  Oh,  spare  me !  "  she  exclaimed,  putting  up  her 
hands  defensively. 

"Ah!  now  you're  becoming  morbidly  self-con- 
scious," he  said,  regretfully.  "  And  that  is  fatal 
to  art." 

A  little  silence  fell  between  them,  each  feeling, 
perhaps,  the  pressure  of  thoughts  which  it  was 
well  not  to  utter.  But  some  echo  of  Mrs.  Brand's 
was  surely  in  the  question  which  forced  itself  at 
length  to  the  surface. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  I  have 
often  wondered  whatever  induced  you  to  become 
a  minister*?  " 

"  You  don't  mean  it !    Might  I  venture  to  in- 


92  MRS.    BRAND 

quire  if  there  is  an  implied  criticism  beneath  that 
innocent  wonder  of  yours?  " 

Mrs.  Brand  felt  uncomfortable. 

"  Because  if  there  is,"  continued  Mr.  Overholt, 
looking  at  her  steadily  as  he  tugged  at  the  ends 
of  his  moustache,  "  it  may  be  well  to  remind  you 
that  no  one  can  possibly  realize  more  keenly  than 
I  do  myself  how  many  are  my  shortcomings  in 
a  calling  which  I  consider  the  noblest  of  them  all." 
He  pushed  his  chair  back. 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry!"  cried  Mrs.  Brand,  peni- 
tently, holding  out  her  hand  towards  him. 

For  an  instant  he  looked  at  it  indifferently. 
Then  he  took  it  between  his  own  with  a  quiet 
deliberation  that  frightened  her.  But  she  would 
have  despised  a  struggle  to  free  it,  and  it  lay  there 
fluttering  while  her  face  grew  pale. 

"  Look  at  me,"  he  said,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"Don't!" 

"  Look  at  me,"  he  repeated  insistently. 

She  was  like  an  entranced  victim,  as  powerless 
to  quell  the  tumult  within  as  to  resist  the  com- 
pulsion without.  She  slowly  turned  her  averted 
eyes  towards  him. 


MRS.    BRAND  93 

"  Do  you  think,"  he  began,  rapidly,  scorching 
her  with  the  glow  in  his  eyes,  "  that  it  argues 
nothing  for  me  that  I  can  sit  here  with  your  hand 
in  mine  "  —  he  held  it  in  a  grip  from  which  there 
was  no  escape,  while  he  caressed  it  tenderly  with 
the  fingers  which  were  free  —  "  that  I  can  look 
into  your  eyes  as  no  other  man  has  ever  done,  that 
I  can  suffer  the  intoxication  of  your  nearness  to 
me,  remembering  all  that  might  be,  and  yet  not 
turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  voice  of  duty  in  my  soul?  " 
His  voice  sank  until  she  hardly  caught  his  words. 
Never  in  her  life  before  had  she  felt  the  fierce  flow 
of  such  a  tide  as  swept  madly  through  her  veins 
just  now.  She  leaned  her  head  helplessly  back 
against  her  chair  and  closed  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MRS.  BRAND  and  Chrys  were  idling  in  the  warmth 
of  the  garden.  She  had  been  amusing  him  by 
planting  some  seeds  in  a  little  nook  which  he  had 
appropriated  as  his  own,  where  his  "  bee-biscus  " 
and  his  "  Jackanese  hop"  were  objects  of  so 
tender  a  solicitude  on  his  part  as  to  threaten  their 
very  existence.  As  he  galloped  hither  and  thither 
on  an  imaginary  steed  of  most  uncertain  temper, 
after  his  horticultural  ardor  had  spent  itself,  he 
ran  into  Jane  coming  across  the  lawn  with  a  note 
for  Mrs.  Brand.  It  was  just  a  few  words  from 
Mr.  Overholt,  scribbled  hastily  on  a  half-sheet  of 
paper. 

"  Can  you  bring  McMichael  over  to  see  his 
mother  at  once*?  "  But  Mrs.  Brand  knew  it  to 
be  a  death  warrant,  and  it  was  some  moments 
before  she  could  look  down  at  the  sweet  little  face 
beside  her,  for  Chrys  was  always  suggestively 
ready  to  share  her  correspondence.  "  Come,  dear," 

94 


MRS.    BRAND  95 

she  said,  gently;  "  mamma  wants  to  see  us,  and  we 
must  go  in  and  get  clean  faces  and  hands." 

As  she  stepped  into  the  street  shimmering  in 
the  golden  light  of  the  afternoon  sun,  and  felt 
her  cheeks  fanned  by  the  soft  air  so  instinct  with 
the  spirit  of  the  new  life  flitting  by  with  glint  of 
wing  and  sheen  of  throat,  her  heart  was  riven  by 
the  sharp  contrast  between  all  this  and  that  scene 
of  decay  to  which  they  were  hastening.  Hitherto 
death  had  been  a  remote  event  in  human  lives, 
which  had  not  trespassed  upon  her  sympathies. 
She  looked  down  at  Chrys,  the  little  child  around 
whom  the  yearning  tendrils  of  her  love  had  wound 
themselves.  A  great  sob  filled  her  throat.  If  he 
were  hers,  how  she  would  fight  for  her  life ! 

"  I  can  beat  you  wunning,"  he  shouted,  break- 
ing away  from  her  and  bobbing  on  absurdly  in  an 
ecstasy  of  vigor. 

"And  he  doesn't  even  know  it,"  she  thought, 
with  a  jealous  pang  for  the  little  mother  whose 
coming  and  going  even  on  that  long  journey  into 
a  far  country  had  no  significance  for  the  child 
whose  lightest  step  her  dull  ear  was  yet  quick  to 
catch. 


96  MRS.    BRAND 

"  Come,  McMichael,"  said  his  father,  who  had 
been  anxiously  awaiting  him.  But  the  little  boy 
drew  back.  "  I  'fraid,"  he  whimpered.  Some- 
thing in  the  ominous  stillness  of  the  house,  in  the 
whispered  sentences  of  the  grave-looking  nurse 
who  was  answering  Mrs.  Brand's  low-toned  in- 
quiries, awoke  a  vague  awe  in  that  impressionable 
little  mind.  He  hid  his  face  in  Mrs.  Brand's 
skirts. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  take  him  up," 
said  Mr.  Overholt,  doubtfully. 

"  Oh,  no !  I  cannot,"  she  exclaimed,  involun- 
tarily, with  a  sickening  dread  of  the  ordeal  it 
implied.  But  the  child  clung  to  her,  and  at  last, 
lifting  him  in  her  arms,  she  set  her  face  resolutely 
towards  the  stairs.  Though  he  was  heavy  to 
carry,  she  did  not  pause  until  she  reached  the  bed- 
side of  his  mother,  whom  she  stooped  and  kissed 
quickly.  "  Now,  darling,  you  kiss  mamma." 
Chrys  clambered  over  the  edge  of  the  bed  after  a 
remembered  manner,  and  cuddled  his  soft,  pink 
cheek  against  that  other  so  soft  and  white. 

Mrs.  Overholt  did  not  speak,  but  the  strained 


MRS.    BRAND  97 

look  of  yearning  faded  out  of  her  eyes,  and  a  little 
smile  flickered  across  her  pale  lips. 

Mrs.  Brand  walked  silently  to  a  chair  and  sat 
down,  a  great  awe  upon  her.  She  had  not  sought 
this  experience,  but  now  that  it  had  been  fastened 
upon  her  she  would  not  quail  before  it.  This, 
then,  was  what  they  called  death.  Could  one  ever 
become  hardened  to  it,  and  take  it  calmly,  as  an 
inevitable  consequence  of  life1?  Her  heart  rose 
in  bitter  rebellion  at  the  very  thought  of  it,  as  her 
eyes  sought  the  bed  where  Chrys  lay  babbling 
sweet  bits  of  gossip  into  his  mother's  ear.  What 
was  it  that  dared  arbitrarily  to  separate  them? 

"  Mamma,  my  burfday's  coming  soon,"  mur- 
mured the  child.  "  What  are  you  going  to  give 
me4?" 

Mrs.  Overholt  half-turned  her  head.  "  My 
watch,"  she  said,  faintly.  Her  husband  found  it 
and  placed  it  in  the  little  hand  that  was  fast  losing 
its  grip  on  the  things  of  this  world.  Her  fingers 
made  an  ineffectual  effort  to  close  over  it,  and 
Mrs.  Brand,  who  had  drawn  near  again,  caught 
the  look  of  distress  in  the  dim,  blue  eyes.  With 
an  intuition  which  had  not  always  been  hers,  she 


98  MRS.    BRAND 

leaned  over  and,  gathering  the  limp  little  hand 
in  her  own,  she  placed  it  softly  in  the  child's 
warm,  chubby  fist.  "  For  you  —  darling  —  al- 
ways," lisped  his  mother,  painfully.  He  gave  a 
crow  of  delight,  and  covered  her  face  and  pretty 
golden  hair  with  kisses.  But  her  anxious  eyes 
sought  Mrs.  Brand's  again. 

"  My  baby,"  she  whispered,  hoarsely.  "  My 
baby.  Love  him,  watch  him  for  me.  Promise! 
Promise !  "  she  repeated,  her  voice  breaking  into 
shrill  insistency  under  the  stress  of  her  anxiety. 

"  My  dear,  I  do,  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Brand, 
brokenly.  "  I  love  him  dearly,  and  I  will  do  all 
in  my  power  to  help  him  to  be  what  you  would 
wish  as  long  as  I  live." 

Mrs.  Overholt  sank  back  exhausted,  and  Chrys 
pillowed  himself  against  her  shoulder  again,  coo- 
ing softly  with  delight  over  his  "  burfday  "  gift. 
Mrs.  Brand  knelt  beside  the  bed,  her  mind  filled 
with  tumultuous  questionings.  What  was  she 
thinking  of  —  this  poor  little  woman,  whose  men- 
tal processes  had  never  commanded  other  than  a 
smiling  tolerance*?  It  had  been  her  mission  in 
this  world  to  look  sweet  and  "  be  good  "  with 


MRS.    BRAND  99 

the  same  quality  of  "  goodness  "  demanded  of  nice 
children.  But  Death  had  set  his  mysterious  seal 
upon  her,  and  at  once  her  most  trivial  thought,  her 
lightest  whim  invested  themselves  with  a  strange 
dignity,  and  invoked  reverence  in  place  of  for- 
bearance. "  Oh,  I  would  give  anything  to  know 
what  she  thinks  now  —  now,  in  the  face  of  it  all," 
thought  Mrs.  Brand,  looking  with  wistful  awe  at 
the  wasted  little  frame  beside  her. 

But  Mrs.  Overholt's  peaceful  soul  was  cleft  by 
none  of  the  mysteries  which  to  other  eyes  envel- 
oped her.  She  was  straying  with  unheeding  feet 
through  sunny  meadows  down  to  the  brink  of  the 
river  which  had  no  terrors  for  her.  After  that 
last  effort  to  confide  her  child  to  the  woman-friend 
in  whom  she  felt  a  clinging  confidence,  her  mind 
lapsed  back  over  the  years  to  those  early  days 
when  she  had  first  felt  the  divine  ecstasy  of 
motherhood.  She  clasped  her  baby  in  her  eternal 
arms  of  love  again  —  that  love  which  is  immortal 
and  defiant  of  death  and  its  sting,  and  lulled  by 
his  light  breath,  for  he  had  fallen  asleep,  she  sank 
into  happy  dreams. 

The  door  opened  gently,   and  Dr.  Challoner 


100  MRS.    BRAND 

came  in.  Mrs.  Brand  drew  back  to  make  way 
for  him,  and  as  she  watched  him  she  was  struck 
by  the  sense  of  an  unfamiliar  phase  of  the  man 
whose  characteristics  she  had  so  confidently  ticked 
off  time  and  again.  He  stood  looking  at  the 
pathetic  picture  before  him  with  compressed  lips, 
and  she  knew  that  his  kindly  heart  was  smitten  by 
it,  but  in  the  precision  of  his  movements  and  in 
the  sharpened  alertness  of  his  face  she  saw  him 
no  longer  as  the  overgrown  boy  whose  gaucheries 
of  thought  and  speech  had  been  a  jest  to  her,  but 
as  the  physician,  keen  and  self-reliant.  She  had 
never  watched  him  in  a  sick-room,  and  in  her 
imagination  she  was  wont  to  depict  him  against 
a  drawing-room  background  amid  delicate  frail- 
ties of  decoration  whose  ruthless  destruction  was 
momentarily  a  probability  by  reason  of  his  un- 
chastened  "  bigness."  But  now  his  quiet  profes- 
sional air  impressed  her  strangely  with  a  new 
sense  of  his  ability  and  dignity. 

"  He  doesn't  even  notice  that  I'm  here,"  she 
thought  presently,  with  a  half  irritable  apprecia- 
tion of  his  absorption  in  the  case  before  him,  for 
she  had  never  realized  what  a  monopoly  of  atten- 


MRS.    BRAND  101 

tion  she  had  always  expected  her  presence  to 
obtain  from  him.  But  at  that  moment  he  turned 
and,  coming  towards  her,  said,  "  I  think  it  will 
be  better  for  the  child  to  be  taken  away  now." 

She  rose  mutely  and  approached  the  bed  where 
Mr.  Overholt  with  tender  hands  was  already  sepa- 
rating Chrys  from  his  mother's  embrace.  Tears 
filled  her  eyes  as  she  thought  that  this  was  "  the 
parting  of  the  ways  "  for  these  two  henceforth, 
and,  with  a  bitter  protest  in  her  heart,  she  turned 
and  went  down-stairs.  With  a  sudden  longing 
for  fresh  air  she  stepped  out  on  the  porch.  The 
night  was  still  and  chilly,  and  she  shivered  as  she 
looked  up  at  the  stars  gleaming  coldly  in  the  dark- 
ening sky.  An  appalling  sense  of  the  impotence 
of  human  love  and  human  sorrow  swept  over  her. 
What  was  the  good  of  it  all  —  of  noble  aspiration 
and  yearning  endeavor  towards  the  ideal  of  a 
brain  which  could  be  crushed  out  of  existence  by 
the  accident  of  a  moment'?  A  quickening  fury 
flushed  through  her  veins. 

The  sudden  lifting  up  of  the  windows  beside 
her  recalled  her  to  immediate  cares,  and  she  hur- 
ried in  to  find  the  two  men  in  the  parlor,  Chrys 


102  MRS.    BRAND 

in  his  father's  arms,  deep  in  the  sleep  into  which 
he  had  fallen  by  his  mother's  side,  his  little  hand 
still  tightly  clutching  his  watch. 

"  How  shall  I  get  him  home?  "  inquired  Mrs. 
Brand. 

"  Oh,  I  will  carry  him,"  replied  Mr.  Overholt, 
quickly.  "  I  had  thought  of  calling  a  cab,  but 
the  jolting  would  certainly  wake  him.  And  it  is 
such  a  little  way." 

"  I  think  you  had  better  not  do  that,  Mr.  Over- 
holt,"  said  Dr.  Challoner,  a  certain  austerity  in 
his  tone.  "  It  is  well  for  you  to  be  here,  and  as  I 
need  to  see  Mrs.  Brand,  I  can  relieve  you  of  the 
necessity  of  going." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Mrs.  Overholt's  pros- 
pects for  to-night?  "  inquired  Mr.  Overholt,  as 
they  stood  before  parting  on  the  door-step. 

"  I  can  hardly  tell.  It  all  depends  on  her 
ability  to  resist  such  an  attack  as  that  of  this 
afternoon,  which  is  liable  to  recur  at  any  time. 
Who  will  relieve  the  nurse  to-night?  " 

"  I  shall  do  so  myself.  I  prefer  to,"  added  Mr. 
Overholt  in  a  manner  which  forbade  remark, 
"  especially  after  what  you  have  told  me." 


MRS.    BRAND  103 

They  walked  a  little  distance  in  silence,  and 
then  Mrs.  Brand  burst  out  passionately,  "  It  is 
cruel !  It  is  wicked !  If  I  loved  my  child  as  that 
poor  little  woman  does,  my  love  should  follow 
him  somehow  to  the  ends  of  eternity." 

"  Just  think  of  it,"  she  went  on  after  a 
moment's  pause;  "  I  feel  as  if  I  had  helped  her 
get  ready  for  execution.  She  is  just  to  be  killed  in 
spite  of  every  impulse  and  instinct  of  her  being, 
which  are  all  towards  living.  And  what  has  she 
done  to  be  punished  so"?  " 

"  But  I  am  not  sure  that  her  death  is  a  punish- 
ment," said  Dr.  Challoner,  quietly. 

"  No,  I  suppose  it's  a  reward  for  good  conduct ! 
You  must  think  it  a  small  matter  to  be  one 
moment  full  of  the  delight  of  living  and  being, 
and  the  next  to  be  swept  arbitrarily  out  of  exist- 
ence." 

"  '  Thou  wert  one, 

Fit  to  trample  out  the  Sun. 
Who  shall  say  thine  ardors  are 
But  a  cinder  in  a  jar,' ' 
he  repeated. 

Mrs.  Brand  was  silent  a  moment.     Then  she 


104  MRS.    BRAND 

said  contemptuously,  "  Surmises!  Poetical  poppy- 
cock! I  am  sick  of  it  all.  It's  so  easy  to  wrap 
the  future  in  a  sentimental  mist,  and  prate  about 
the  immortality  back  of  it." 

Dr.  Challoner  made  no  reply,  until  she  said 
irritably,  "  What  is  the  matter  with  you  to-night1? 
Why  don't  you  answer  me1?  " 

"  Because  you  are  not  sincere,"  he  said,  stop- 
ping a  moment  to  shift  his  heavy  little  burden  into 
an  easier  position.  "  You  have  just  as  much  faith 
in  an  immortal  life  as  I  have,  but  you  have  picked 
up  some  glib  shibboleths,  and  are  trying  to  enter- 
tain yourself  by  shouting  them  at  me.  As  to  Mrs. 
Overholt,  who  are  you  that  you  should  presume 
to  judge  her  life  and  its  ending1?  Poor  little 
woman !  "  he  exclaimed,  tenderly.  "  I  am  sure 
she  was  happy  when  she  fell  asleep  with  her  child 
in  her  arms.  Death  has  no  terrors  for  her." 

"  No,  because  submission  is  easy  when  one's 
intellect  is  duped  by  a  drug." 

Dr.  Challoner  laughed. 

"  Yes,  it's  comical,  isn't  it*?  "  she  said,  with  a 
little  quiver  in  her  voice.  "  But  I  know  how  Pat- 
rick Bronte  felt  when  he  died  standing." 


MRS.    BRAND 

There  was  no  chance  to  say  anything  further, 
for  they  had  reached  the  door.  Dr.  Challoner 
carried  Chrys  up-stairs,  and  then  came  down  for 
a  chat  with  Mr.  Brand. 

"  How  are  things  going,  Arthur1?  " 

"  Well,  I  can't  tell.  It  may  go  on  just  like  this 
for  days  yet.  But  one  can  never  tell." 

"  How  is  he  bearing  up*?  " 

"  Remarkably,  I  should  say,"  answered  Dr. 
Challoner,  drily. 

"  He  is  a  remarkable  man.  I  don't  know  how 
he  holds  out.  Why,  here,  the  other  night,  he 
would  insist  on  sitting  up  with  that  boy  who  was 
run  over  by  the  trolley.  I  protested  about  that. 
I  told  him  that  kind  of  work  could  be  done  just 
as  well  by  other  people;  that  it  didn't  pay  for 
him  to  rack  his  nerves  with  that  kind  of  thing. 
'  'T  isn't  good  business,'  I  said," 

"  But  he  went?  "  inquired  Dr.  Challoner,  as 
some  remark  was  evidently  required  from  him. 

"  Went !  Of  course  he  went,  after  he  had 
looked  at  me  in  that  way  he  has,  and  said,  '  Ah ! 
I  hadn't  thought  of  it  in  that  light  before.'  "  Mr. 


106  MRS.    BRAND 

Brand  laughed  grimly.  He  had  not  been  dis- 
pleased at  the  futility  of  his  appeal. 

"  Last  week  I  begged  him  to  accept  a  supply  for 
Sunday.  But  he  said  no,  that  he  had  never  per- 
mitted his  private  life  to  interfere  with  his  duties 
to  his  people,  and  that  he  preferred  to  fulfill  them 
at  any  cost  to  himself.  And  such  a  sermon  as  he 
gave  us  on  tribulation.  The  climax  —  I  shall 
never  forget  it,"  said  Mr.  Brand  slowly.  "  You 
know  Boyington,  what  an  excitable  fellow  he  is. 
We  met  at  the  church  door,  coming  out,  and  he 
said  to  me,  *  That  was  a  good  talk.  I  tell  you  that 
peroration  was  a  pyrotechnic  dream.' ' 

Dr.  Challoner  laughed.  "  Yes,  that  sounds  like 
Boyington." 

"  I  suppose  that  if  a  preacher  can  brace  him- 
self up  to  do  it,  the  knowledge  of  his  people's 
sympathy  sustains  him  wonderfully  at  such  a 
time." 

"  There  are  other  things  to  sustain  even  a 
preacher,"  said  Dr.  Challoner,  gravely,  but  Mr. 
Brand  did  not  notice. 

In  reality,  Mr.  Overholt  thought  very  little 
about  the  sustaining  sympathy  of  his  people.  But 


MRS.    BRAND  107 

he  had  so  closely  studied  cause  and  effect  in  spir- 
itual politics,  and  was  so  appreciative  of  the  influ- 
ence of  oratorical  setting  and  accessory  that  his 
pulse  responsively  quickened  as  he  found  himself 
the  central  figure  in  a  situation  furnishing  a 
rich  opportunity  for  dramatic  interpretation.  He 
would  have  felt  contempt  for  the  actor  who  should 
appeal  to  his  audience  for  their  sympathy  to 
enable  him  to  act.  The  proof  of  his  ability  lay  in 
his  power  to  compel  from  them  a  tribute  to  his 
genius.  And  on  the  previous  Sunday  he  had  cer- 
tainly swept  his  audience  with  him  —  onward,  to 
an  exaltation  of  feeling,  which  in  himself  almost 
amounted  to  intoxication  —  intoxication  with  the 
charm  of  his  own  emotion. 

Mrs.  Brand  came  down-stairs  after  having  set- 
tled Chrys  for  the  night,  and  in  the  feeling  of 
unrest  of  which  each  was  conscious  it  was  a  relief 
to  talk.  They  soon  drifted  into  a  discussion  of 
Dr.  Challoner's  theories,  and  Mr.  Brand  mani- 
fested more  interest  than  he  had  ever  done  before 
in  the  young  man's  plans. 

"Ah!  you're  an  enthusiast,  Arthur,"  he  said 
at  last,  with  a  sigh. 


108  MRS.    BRAND 

"  I  need  to  be,"  replied  the  doctor,  simply. 
"  You  can't  wet-blanket  me  by  calling  me  names." 

"  Mr.  Overholt  says  you're  a  socialist  of  the 
rankest  type,"  observed  Mrs.  Brand. 

"  I  wonder  whether  Mr.  Overholt  knows  any 
better  than  you  do  what  socialism  is  and  is  not," 
retorted  Dr.  Challoner  wrathfully.  "  One  would 
think,  to  hear  some  people  talk,  that  it  was  a  crime 
to  know  anything  about  the  world's  misery.  But 
I  tell  you  as  long  as  there  is  sin  and  suffering  in 
the  world,  the  responsibility  for  it  is  yours.  It 
isn't  enough  to  pay  your  own  debts.  Your  account 
is  not  settled  until  you've  paid  some  other  per- 
son's, too." 

Mr.  Brand  was  held  to  be  a  very  just  man,  an 
expression  which  is  not  always  flattering  in  its 
implication.  But  his  justness  had  been  mercifully 
tempered  by  his  generosity,  and  it  had  never 
occurred  to  him  that  justice  itself  might  demand 
from  him  a  greater  degree  of  self-sacrifice  than 
his  generosity  had  prompted.  But  while  Dr. 
Challoner  was  talking  that  evening  he  had  a  dim 
vision  destined  to  bear  much  fruit,  of  the  differ- 
ence between  human  justice  and  divine  justness. 


MRS.    BRAND  109 

After  Mrs.  Brand  and  Dr.  Challoner  were  gone 
Mr.  Overholt  returned  to  his  wife's  room  to  make 
the  final  arrangements  for  the  night.  The  nurse 
was  exhausted,  having  been  on  duty  for  many 
hours,  and  after  leaving  him  the  necessary  direc- 
tions, with  many  charges  to  awaken  her  if  there 
was  any  sign  of  a  change,  she  went  away  to  sleep 
until  half-past  three.  He  read  for  a  while  and 
then,  urged  by  some  under-current  of  thought,  he 
went  over  to  the  bed  and  stood  looking  at  his 
wife.  She  was  still  in  the  stupor  from  which  she 
had  not  roused  for  some  hours.  But  at  any 
moment  she  might  have  another  attack  similar  to 
the  one  during  which  he  had  sent  so  hurriedly 
for  McMichael,  for  in  the  midst  of  those  horrible 
struggles  for  breath  she  had  continually  gasped 
his  name  in  pitiful  entreaty.  Mr.  Overholt  shud- 
dered at  the  recollection  of  it,  for  he  had  an 
intense  shrinking  from  the  sight  of  physical  pain. 
"  If  I  had  to  suffer  so,"  he  thought,  "  and  knew 
that  death  must  be  the  end,  I  should  put  the  end 
to  it  all  myself.  Poor  little  girl !  It's  too  bad." 
He  touched  her  hand  tenderly. 

But  his  mind  at  once  reverted  to  the  thought 


110  MRS.    BRAND 

familiar  to  him  by  frequent  dwelling  on  it  in  the 
past.  It  had  always  fascinated  him,  and  now  he 
was  confronted  by  an  exact  case  in  point.  Why 
should  it  not  be  justifiable  to  put  an  end  to  the 
chance  for  further  suffering1?  Was  it  not  the 
kindest,  the  most  humane  thing  to  do*?  If  one 
saw  a  helpless  bird  or  a  wounded  animal  in  the 
clutch  of  hopeless  pain  there  would  be  no  argu- 
ment about  putting  it  out  of  its  misery.  It  would 
be  esteemed  the  most  abandoned  cruelty  not  to  do 
so.  He  returned  mechanically  to  his  reading,  but 
he  soon  found  himself  unconscious  of  the  printed 
words  in  the  stress  of  an  argument  which  it  was 
impossible  to  resist.  The  endless  succession  of 
disturbed  nights  and  anxious  days  was  working 
out  its  cumulative  effect  upon  him  now,  and  urg- 
ing him  to  an  act  of  which  in  moments  less 
benumbed  he  would  have  counted  the  cost. 

He  had  often  said  that  if  he  had  not  been  a 
minister  he  would  have  been  a  doctor,  and  medical 
theories  and  experiments  had  always  had  a  dis- 
tinct fascination  for  him,  with  the  result  that  he 
was  as  well  able  to  treat  his  wife  as  any  hospital 
nurse  could  have  been.  Perhaps  that  was  why  he 


MRS.    BRAND  111 

had  been  so  chary  of  outside  assistance  in  the  care 
of  her,  though  possibly  his  reluctance  in  this 
respect,  which  had  not  been  unproductive  of  com- 
ment among  his  people,  was  heightened  by  his 
frank  desire  to  preserve  the  privacy  of  his  home. 
His  wife's  tongue  was  not  always  to  be  relied 
upon  in  matters  requiring  discretion,  and  there 
were  matters  regarding  him  that  required  dis- 
cretion. 

Yet  he  realized  now  more  keenly  than  ever 
before  what  a  good  wife  she  had  been  to  him. 
Countless  memories  of  her  sweet  ways  came 
crowding  in  upon  him,  and  he  dwelt  upon  them  in 
tender  reminiscence.  But  this  long,  wearisome 
struggle  —  how  tired  she  must  be  of  it !  Then 

\-J\-S 

why  —  why  not*?  Over  and  over  again  that  one 
insistent  thought  came  whirling  back  to  him  like 
a  ball  of  flame.  Gradually,  in  his  dull  brain 
their  position  became  reversed.  It  was  he  lying 
there,  a  ghastly,  physical  spectacle,  a  weary 
spirit  sighing  for  release  from  its  nauseous  prison 
house.  Who  was  there  brave  enough  to  help  him 
in  his  helplessness? 

At  last,  with  a  spasmodic  start  he  got  up  and 


112  MRS.    BRAND 

paced  the  room,  up  and  down,  over  and  across, 
until  the  pattern  on  the  carpet  added  its  intricacies 
to  the  confusion  in  his  brain.  How  tired  he  was? 
It  seemed  as  if  there  were  a  cord  about  his  head, 
and  he  wondered  miserably  how  much  tighter  it 
would  be  before  it  snapped.  There  was  a  lounge 
in  the  room,  and  he  mechanically  drew  it  up 
nearer  the  bed.  A  few  minutes  later  he  was 
asleep,  heavily,  dreamlessly. 

How  long  after  was  it,  minutes  or  hours,  that 
he  was  awakened  with  the  sudden  shock  of  a  sound 
in  the  room,  he  did  not  know.  His  wife  was  sit- 
ting up  in  bed,  gasping  for  breath.  Mr.  Over- 
holt  sprang  up  in  a  frenzy  of  horror,  and  then  he 
turned  towards  the  table  on  which  were  ranged 
the  medicines. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  Dr.  Challoner 
left  the  Brands',  for  conversation  there  had  gone 
deeper  than  he  had  anticipated.  Socialist  as  he 
might  be,  and  carrying  in  his  heart  the  scarred 
memories  of  cruel  wrongs  against  his  people,  he 
held  himself  bound  to  accept  whatever  aid  came 
his  way  from  whatever  source.  But  he  belonged 
to  the  noble  army  of  those  that  dream  dreams  — 


MRS.    BRAND  113 

those  priceless  dreams  that  have  in  them  the  germ 
of  the  world's  redemption  —  and  he  had  been 
moved  to-night  as  never  before  to  set  forth  to 
Mr.  Brand  the  visions  which  he  cherished. 

As  he  came  in  sight  of  the  parsonage,  an  impulse 
came  over  him  to  ascertain  his  patient's  condition 
at  that  hour.  But  he  knocked  on  the  door  repeat- 
edly before  it  was  opened  by  Mr.  Overholt  him- 
self. 

"  I  was  passing  this  way  again,"  said  the  doctor, 
"  and  thought  I  would  run  in  a  moment  to  see 
how  things  were  going." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Overholt.  But  he  remained 
standing  with  his  hand  guarding  the  door,  making 
no  effort  by  gesture  or  remark  toward  admitting 
his  visitor. 

"  What's  struck  the  man ! "  thought  Dr. 
Challoner,  impatiently.  "  He  acts  as  if  he  were 
drugged."  And  abruptly  pushing  past  Mr. 
Overholt  he  went  up-stairs.  Approaching  the 
bed  he  leaned  over  the  patient,  but  drew  back 
the  next  moment  surprised  beyond  the  bounds  of 
professional  equanimity. 


114  MRS.    BRAND 

"  She  is  dying!  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  low  tone 
of  horror. 

"  Yes,"  assented  Mr.  Overholt.  He  stood  at 
the  foot  of  the  bed  looking  at  the  doctor  with  a 
dazed  expression  in  his  eyes. 

"  She  has  had  more  morphia,"  continued  Dr. 
Challoner.  "  When?  "  There  was  a  tang  in  his 
voice  which  penetrated  Mr.  Overholt's  dulled 
perceptions. 

"Ah  —  I  do  not  know.  Let  me  think,"  he 
said,  passing  his  unsteady  hand  across  his  fore- 
head. "  A  little  while  ago,  I  think.  Another 
attack  was  coming  on.  It  has  been  a  great  strain ; 
perhaps  I  should  not  have  remained  alone  to- 
night. I  am  tired."  The  sentences  came  in  dis- 
connected jerks.  Whatever  Dr.  Challoner's 
ideas  might  be,  he  could  not  but  feel  the  utter 
prostration  of  the  man  before  him.  He  was 
about  to  speak  again  when  the  nurse  came  hastily 
into  the  room. 

"  I  heard  your  voice,  and  I  was  afraid  some- 
thing was  the  matter,"  she  said  by  way  of  ex- 
planation. She  busied  about,  anxious  to  impress 
herself  upon  the  doctor.  But  he  took  no  notice 


MRS.    BRAND  115 

of  her,   and  at  last  she  subsided,   furtively   to 
await  developments. 

Dr.  Challoner  never  forgot  that  night.  It 
ranked  among  the  tragical  experiences  of  his  life. 
The  eastern  sky  was  flushed  with  the  glory  of 
the  coming  day  when  he  left  the  house  from 
which  the  soul  of  its  little  mistress  had  fled.  The 
clammy  horrors  of  that  long  nightmare  still  clung 
to  him,  and  he  turned  and  looked  back  at  the 
house  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  it  was  really 
there.  The  loss  of  a  patient  smote  him  always 
like  a  personal  bereavement,  but  this  —  ah,  he 
must  not  think  of  it.  Not  now,  at  least.  But 
what  could  blind  his  brain  to  the  thoughts  which 
passed  in  riotous  review  before  it!  The  fresh 
morning  air  seemed  but  to  fan  the  flame  of  his 
imaginings  to  crueller  activities. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IMMEDIATELY  after  his  wife's  funeral  Mr.  Over- 
holt  went  north  with  a  couple  of  Eastern  friends, 
and  remained  away  until  the  early  autumn.  His 
church  felt  much  alarm  about  him,  for  the  remark- 
able self-control  which  he  had  maintained  pre- 
saged a  serious  breakdown  when  the  strain  of 
pulpit  and  parish  should  be  withdrawn. 

"  About  McMichael,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Brand  a 
few  days  before  his  departure. 

"That  is  all  settled/'  she  replied,  quickly. 
"  You  could  not  possibly  take  him  with  you.  Of 
course  he  must  stay  with  us."  She  was  so  serious 
and  so  insistent  that  he  finally  deferred  to  her 
presentation  of  the  matter. 

"  Then  you  will  write  me  every  week,  and  let 
me  know  how  he  gets  on*?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  will  see  that  you  hear  regularly." 

"  That  was  not  what  I  asked."  He  looked  at 
her  intently  with  an  air  of  gravity  that  was  dis- 

116 


MRS.    BRAND  117 

concerting.  She  waited  for  him  to  say  more,  but 
he  volunteered  nothing,  and  she  felt  herself  grow- 
ing warm  under  his  continued  gaze. 

'  Yes,"  she  said,  hurriedly,  as  if  in  doubt  of 
his  meaning,  "  you  shall  know  everything  about 
him,  I  promise  you." 

He  still  looked  at  her  in  silence,  and  she  felt 
her  resolution  beginning  to  waver  under  this  voice- 
less coercion.  But  at  that  instant  Mr.  Brand 
came  in. 

"  Aren't  you  home  unusually  early*? "  she 
asked,  with  a  deep  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Yes.  I  felt  tired  to-day,  and  was  glad  to 
come  home."  He  spoke  wearily,  and  she  looked 
at  him  with  sudden  anxiety,  for  her  experience 
of  suffering  and  death  in  the  last  few  weeks  had 
touched  her  into  hitherto  un though t-of  tenderness. 
The  world  had  been  to  her  like  a  great  curiosity 
shop,  in  whose  motley  display  of  sin  and  suffering, 
mishap  and  happiness,  she  had  felt  herself  to  have 
no  part.  But  she  could  never  feel  like  that  again. 
A  purpose  had  come  into  her  life  —  a  distinct 
intention  to  fulfill  to  the  letter  the  promise  made 
to  Mrs.  Overholt.  She  felt  herself  charged  with 


118  MRS.    BRAND 

the  welfare  of  a  little  life,  and  already  this  respon- 
sibility was  working  out  its  potent  ends  upon  her, 
destined  as  she  had  been  from  the  beginning  to 
stamp  her  simplest  experiences  with  the  most 
tragic  interpretation  possible  to  them. 

Mr.  Brand  established  himself  comfortably 
beside  the  open  window,  and  looked  out  approv- 
ingly at  the  brilliant  panorama  of  bud  and  blos- 
som outspread  before  him. 

"  Ah,  I  tell  you !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  mighty 
inhalation ;  "  this  is  a  privilege  after  being  cooped 
up  in  a  dusty  office  all  day."  Then  the  two  men 
drifted  into  talk  about  church  affairs,  and  the 
arrangements  necessary  during  the  pastor's 
absence,  until  Mr.  Overholt,  rising  at  last  to  go, 
said:  "  What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Brand1?  I  have 
asked  your  wife  to  be  kind  enough  to  send  me 
a  few  lines  every  week  while  I  am  gone  about  my 
boy.  Of  course  I  shall  hear  indirectly  about  him 
in  several  ways,  but  I  should  esteem  it  the  great- 
est kindness  if  she  should  write  me  herself  about 
him." 

"  Why,  of  course  she  will,"  said  Mr.  Brand, 
heartily.  "  Poor  little  chap !  I'm  real  glad  to 


MRS.    BRAND  119 

think  you've  made  up  your  mind  to  let  us  keep 
him.  I  don't  know  how  Cecily  would  keep  house 
without  him  now." 

"  That  is  settled  then,"  said  Mr.  Overholt,  with 
an  air  of  relief  as  of  having  disposed  of  another 
detail  of  the  business  incidental  to  his  departure. 
But  his  eyes  sought  the  flash  in  Mrs.  Brand's  with 
a  cool  gleam,  and  then  he  was  gone,  leaving  her 
in  a  futile  tempest  of  indignation  at  his  easy 
handling  of  the  situation. 

To  Mr.  Brand  it  seemed  a  simple  matter  of 
duty  that  she  should  write  fully  and  frequently  to 
the  absent  pastor  about  his  child.  Mr.  Overholt 
had  his  peculiarities  undoubtedly,  and  Mr.  Brand 
had  even  felt  himself  occasionally  puzzled  to 
account  for  them,  but  accustomed  as  he  had  been 
to  rate  men  and  machines  according  to  their 
ability  to  accomplish  the  work  set  before  them,  his 
admiration  for  his  pastor's  remarkable  efficiency 
quite  outweighed  the  trifling  doubts  that  some- 
times disturbed  his  mind.  And  he  was  anxious 
above  everything  to  preserve  his  wife  in  her 
uncritical  attitude  towards  the  minister. 

When  Mrs.  Brand  sat  down  to  answer  Mr. 


120  MRS.    BRAND 

Overholt's  first  letter  with  a  promptness  that  was 
due  to  her  husband's  urgency,  she  felt  under  proud 
compulsion  to  write  without  restraint.  She  gave 
him  a  full  account  of  his  son's  latest  sayings  and 
doings.  "  Jane  took  him  to  Sunday-school  with 
her  yesterday,  and  when  the  teacher  asked  him  if 
he  hadn't  a  penny  for  the  collection,  he  said  indig- 
nantly :  '  Oh,  no !  My  poor  papa  has  to  work  very 
hard  for  those  pennies ! '  Mr.  Brand  is  anxious 
for  me  to  tell  you  this  story,  as  he  thinks  it  prom- 
ises well  for  the  future  of  the  boy." 

Mr.  Overholt,  lazily  reading  her  letter  under 
the  shadow  of  far-away  pine  trees,  smiled  for 
many  reasons.  "  I  wonder  why  she's  so  fond  of 
McMichael*?"  And  then,  with  masculine  assur- 
ance, he  smiled  again.  He  was  feeling  very  happy 
just  now.  He  looked  back  upon  his  married  life, 
and  thought  of  it  as  not  having  been  at  all  dis- 
agreeable, but  it  was  distinctly  pleasant  to  be  free 
from  the  necessity  of  formulating  mitigating 
theories  about  it.  Had  the  gift  of  choice  been 
conferred  upon  him  he  could  hardly  have  created 
a  situation  more  to  his  liking  than  the  present 
one.  For  while  it  was  not  a  necessity  of  his 


MRS.    BRAND 

nature  that  he  should  be  in  love  with  any  one, 
it  was  essential  to  his  complete  enjoyment  of  life 
that  he  should  hover  perilously  on  the  brink  of  it. 
And  he  had  never  before  hovered  so  entirely  to 
his  liking. 

In  the  meantime  Dr.  Challoner,  plodding  his 
way  wearily  through  stifling  alleys  and  swarming 
streets,  had  never  before  felt  so  oppressed  by  the 
bondage  of  his  calling.  He  had  established  a 
little  free  dispensary,  where  he  put  in  a  couple  of 
hours  every  day,  but  he  no  longer  felt  a  glow  of 
enthusiasm  in  his  work,  and  was  sometimes 
appalled  at  the  irritation  which  these  people 
roused  in  him  with  their  nauseating  ailments  and 
ceaseless  complaints.  These  were  the  times  when 
he  turned  his  back  with  scorn  of  repudiation  upon 
his  tenderly  cherished  theories.  Such  outbreaks 
were  necessarily  followed  by  seasons  of  remorse, 
which  took  the  form  of  bitter  conviction  that  he 
was  utterly  incapable  of  rendering  any  real  service 
to  humanity.  The  Brands  had  gone  to  the  sea- 
shore and  their  house  was  shut  up,  but  even  had 
they  been  at  home  he  could  hardly  have  found 


122  MRS.    BRAND 

palliation  there,  for  he  and  Cecily  had  parted  in 
anger. 

"  How  dare  you  malign  Mr.  Overholt  so"?  "  she 
had  burst  out  at  him,  after  having  forced  from 
him  some  expressions  of  his  feeling  towards  the 
minister.  He  looked  at  her  in  frank  amaze- 
ment. 

"  Have  you  constituted  yourself  his  defender 
then  —  against  me?"  he  asked,  with  a  note  in 
his  voice  which  she  had  never  heard  before. 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  he  needs  a  defender,"  she 
replied,  with  dignity. 

"  Why,  hang  it  all !  "  he  exclaimed,  hotly. 
"  What's  got  into  you"?  Since  when  have  you 
been  so  innocent  about  him?  Why,  you  told  me 
once  that  you  knew  more " 

That  boomerang,  it  was  a  fatal  weapon  just 
then  —  for  Dr.  Challoner,  and  when  he  retired 
from  that  interview  he  did  so  with  tingling  ears 
and  a  misty  mind,  which  sought  relief  in  those 
mighty  generalizations  about  womankind  which 
distracted  man  finds  at  times  so  comforting.  But 
the  root  of  woman  in  general  is  always  one  woman 
in  particular,  and  in  later  ruminations  he  reverted 


MRS.    BRAND  123 

to  that  one.  "  Now,  if  I  told  her  all  that  I  think, 
she  might  have  had  reason  for  flying  out  at  me." 
But  there  the  matter  remained,  to  harry  him 
through  the  dog-days.  To  think  that  he  and 
Cecily  should  actually  have  quarreled  over  that 
fellow!  It  was  intolerable.  But  the  more  he 
thought  about  it  the  more  complicated  the  whole 
affair  seemed  to  become,  and  he  wondered  miser- 
ably whether  he  must  reconcile  himself  to  the  rule 
of  reservations  in  the  acquaintance  which  had 
hitherto  been  so  free  of  expression.  It  was,  there- 
fore, with  manifold  misgivings  that  he  went  to 
the  Brands'  to  welcome  them  home  on  their  return 
during  the  first  week  in  September. 

"Why,  you  miserable  old  thing!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Brand,  surveying  him  at  arm's  length. 
"  Whatever  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself?  " 

"  That's  so,  Arthur,"  said  Mr.  Brand,  chiming 
in;  "I  guess  it's  been  pretty  hard  slumming  it  in 
the  kind  of  weather  you've  been  having." 

"  Oh,  I  could  stand  that  all  right  if  you  people 
didn't  go  off,  and  leave  me  no  place  to  fly  to. 
I  protest  against  that." 

"  Well,  we  won't  do  it  again  for  a  long  time, 


124  MRS.    BRAND 

Bruin,  and  you  don't  know  how  good  it  is  to  see 
you  again."  She  beamed  on  him  radiantly,  and 
as  if  by  magic  all  his  doubts  and  difficulties  rolled 
away,  and  he  wondered  what  on  earth  he  had  been 
making  himself  such  a  fool  about. 

"  I  suppose  Overholt's  expected  back  next 
week,"  said  Mr.  Brand,  after  they  had  exhausted 
personal  topics.  "  Well,  it's  time  he  got  into  the 
harness  again,  and  if  he  feels  as  well  as  I  make 
out  he  does  from  his  letters  to  Cecily,  I  should 
think  he  was  ready  for  it." 

"  From  his  letters  to  Cecily*? "  repeated  Dr. 
Challoner.  "  What's  he  been  writing  you  for*?  " 
he  asked  bluntly,  turning  to  her. 

"  Oh,  about  Chrys,"  she  replied,  carelessly. 
"  Such  stupid  letters,  you  can't  think.  One  would 
suppose  a  man  like  that  would  make  rather  an 
interesting  correspondent,  but  I  suppose  he  saves 
himself  for  the  public."  She  made  a  little  grimace. 
"  There's  more  in  one  of  your  letters  than  in  ten 
of  his,  Bruin,"  she  said,  smiling  at  him  enchant- 
ingly.  He  had  often  insisted  to  her  that  he  could 
not  tell  a  pretty  woman  from  a  plain  one,  but  at 
that  moment  he  honestly  thought  her  lovely. 


MRS.    BRAND  125 

In  the  innocence  of  his  heart  he  thought  she 
must  have  forgotten  all  about  the  tiff  they  had 
had  over  the  minister.  That  was  exactly  what 
she  wished  him  to  suppose,  of  course,  for  it  would 
never  do  to  let  him  suspect  her  of  repentance  in 
the  matter.  "  He's  too  good  to  be  let  get  sulky," 
she  told  herself,  and,  fortified  by  this  magnani- 
mous view  of  her  character,  it  was  easy  to  be 
gracious.  As  to  Mr.  Overholt's  lack  of  brilliancy 
on  paper,  what  she  had  said  was  quite  true.  He 
enjoyed  receiving  her  letters,  and  read  clever  bits 
of  them  to  his  companions,  but  it  was  useless  to 
attempt  to  answer  them  in  what  must  of  necessity 
be  subject  to  Mr.  Brand's  scrutiny.  He  could 
afford  to  wait.  Besides,  he  hated  letter-writing. 

After  all,  Mrs.  Brand  found  it  a  real  relief  to 
turn  again  to  the  old-time  friend  about  whom 
there  lurked  no  subtleties  of  sentiment  or  mys- 
teries of  interpretation.  "  He's  like  a  good,  plain, 
Anglo-Saxon  sentence,"  she  thought,  looking  at 
him  benevolently.  "  And  the  other  —  why,  he's 
like  the  inscription  on  the  palace  wall  at  Padua." 

"Well,   Overholt's  home,"   said   Mr.   Brand, 


126  MRS.    BRAND 

a  few  days  later,  "  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he 
dropped  in  this  evening." 

Mrs.  Brand  was  seated  at  a  table  busily 
engaged  in  pasting  pictures  into  a  linen  book.  She 
arranged  and  rearranged  them  with  an  anxiety 
worthy  of  a  more  artistic  cause,  her  husband  prob- 
ably thought,  for  he  watched  her  with  some 
amusement. 

"Why  don't  you  put  in  this?"  he  inquired, 
picking  up  a  vignette  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  which 
she  had  thrown  aside  with  a  lot  of  others.  "  You 
want  to  teach  him  to  be  patriotic." 

"  Oh,  no.  It  worries  him  dreadfully  to  see 
pictures  of  people  without  their  legs  on.  I  can 
never  make  him  understand  where  their  legs  are. 
Besides,"  she  added,  scornfully,  "  this  is  not 
intended  to  be  a  Primer  for  Precious  Patriots.  I 
wouldn't  have  him  know  yet  for  the  world  that 
there  ever  was  such  a  man  as  Abraham  Lincoln. 
Jack  the  Giant  Killer  is  a  much  more  suitable 
hero." 

She  leaned  back  to  survey  the  completed  page, 
and  Mr.  Brand,  perhaps  by  way  of  retaliation 
upon  her  for  the  heresy  of  her  remarks,  said  some- 


MRS.    BRAND  127 

what  brusquely:  "Of  course  his  father  will  be 
wanting  the  boy  at  once.  I  shouldn't  think  much 
of  him  if  he  didn't." 

Mrs.  Brand  shut  the  book  with  a  snap,  and 
looked  up  quickly  with  the  intention  of  saying 
something,  but  the  words  died  on  her  lips,  and  she 
went  abruptly  towards  the  window,  where  she 
stood  in  silence  looking  out.  Somewhere  in  the 
garden  could  be  heard  the  erratic  peals  of  a  bell 
to  which  even  distance  could  not  lend  a  charm. 
They  grew  discordantly  nearer  as  Chrys  dashed 
by  harnessed  to  an  express  wagon. 

"  Look  at  me,  Aunt  Cecily,"  he  shouted,  de- 
lightedly, as  he  caught  sight  of  her  at  the  win- 
dow, "  I'm  a  'lectric  car." 

"What  have  you  got  under  the  basket*? "  she 
called  back  to  him,  referring  to  an  inverted  basket 
with  an  array  of  bricks  on  top  of  it. 

"  Oh,  that's  my  passingzer  —  kitty.  I  put  the 
bricks  on  so  she  could  sit  still."  A  little  cloud 
came  over  his  face.  "  I  wish  she  was  a  boy,  Aunt 
Cecily.  She'd  know  so  much  more  about  'lec- 
tricity."  He  waited  for  a  moment,  considering  a 
pout,  but  a  suppressed  sound  as  of  subterranean 


128  MRS.    BRAND 

agony  spurred  on  his  flagging  energies,  and  with 
an  entrancing  little  gesture  he  blew  Aunt  Cecily 
a  kiss  from  the  tips  of  some  very  grimy  fingers, 
and,  with  a  premonitory  peal  from  the  dinner- 
bell,  the  car  started  on  its  devious  course  to  the 
accompaniment  of  imprecations  from  the  impris- 
oned passenger,  who,  after  a  long  life  faithfully 
devoted  to  the  care  of  a  family  too  numerous  to 
mention,  might  reasonably  have  expected  to  spend 
her  old  age  in  peace.  "  How  sweet  and  wicked  he 
looked !  "  thought  Mrs.  Brand,  approvingly.  But 
when  she  turned  to  leave  the  room  a  few  minutes 
later  Mr.  Brand,  happening  to  look  up  from  his 
paper,  saw  that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  It's  the  idea  of  giving  up  the  boy,  I'll  be 
bound !  "  He  was  not  unconscious  of  the  fact 
that  the  prospect  was  an  unpleasant  one,  but  why 
make  a  fuss  over  the  inevitable?  He  would  miss 
the  little  chap,  himself;  who  could  help  it? 

But  who  could  suppose  that  she  would  devote 
herself  to  a  child  as  she  had.  He  leaned  back  in 
his  chair  with  a  sigh  and  closed  his  eyes.  His  mind 
was  busy  with  thoughts  which  were  of  late  becom- 
ing frequent  to  it,  for  he  felt  bound  to  admit  that 


MRS.    BRAND  129 

his  wife's  character  was  no  longer  quite  intelli- 
gible to  him.  It  was  disconcerting  after  he  had 
laid  it  out  to  his  entire  satisfaction,  with  the  same 
mathematical  exactitude  that  he  would  have 
applied  to  the  subdivision  of  a  suburb,  to  find 
himself  lost  in  a  maze.  In  vain  he  followed  every 
new  lead,  and  burdened  his  mind  with  promising 
clues ;  they  all  conducted  him  plausibly  to  a  blind 
wall.  Was  it  possible  that  he  could  be  jealous 
of  the  child  whose  presence  effected  so  incalculable 
a  difference  in  her?  By  no  means,  for  he  had  at 
no  time  felt  dependent  upon  her  for  his  happiness. 
But  in  the  plans  that  he  had  made  for  her,  he  had 
always  figured  as  the  supreme  and  benevolent 
factor  of  her  life.  There  was  not  a  trace  of  cow- 
ardice in  his  nature,  else  he  would  never  have 
admitted  to  himself  the  thin-edged  doubt  which 
was  working  its  way  into  his  mind,  and  which 
was  full  of  bitter  suggestion  to  him.  Moved  by 
a  sudden  impulse,  he  got  up  from  his  chair  and 
crossed  the  room  to  look  at  himself  in  a  panel  of 
glass  set  into  a  cabinet.  He  had  been  a  handsome 
fellow  in  his  youth,  and  had  retired  upon  his 
early  reputation  in  that  respect  with  an  easy  belief 


130  MRS.    BRAND 

in  its  endurance.  But  to-day  he  looked  at  himself 
through  eyes  from  which  the  scales  were  falling. 
That  deeply- furrowed  face  —  ah,  he  would 
gladly  have  exchanged  its  noble  lines  of  character 
for  the  unwrinkled  insipidity  of  youth.  And  the 
white  hairs  which  crowned  his  age  with  dignity  — 
the  stoop  of  those  broad  shoulders  which  had  so 
bravely  bent  themselves  to  the  bearing  of  life's 
burdens  —  he  faced  it  all  unflinchingly,  and  then 
went  back  to  his  chair  with  a  sigh.  He  had  always 
been  so  vigorous  and  his  energy  so  resistless  that 
he  had  not  learned  to  think  of  himself  as  an  old 
man.  He  had  the  contempt  of  a  strong  man  for 
physical  weakness,  and  was  willing  to  endure  mar- 
tyrdom before  admitting  the  condition  of  which 
he  was  becoming  aware,  which  in  itself  was  the 
real  cause  of  this  continued  depression  of  spirits. 

"  Well,  where  is  my  boy"?  "  asked  Mr.  Over- 
holt  that  evening,  after  he  had  shaken  hands  with 
Mrs.  Brand  and  received  her  congratulations  upon 
his  improved  and  tanned  appearance,  while  he 
noted  anew  with  practised  eye  the  charm  of  her 
own. 

"  He  was  here  a  moment  ago,  but  when  we 


MRS.    BRAND 

heard  you  were  coming  he  got  lost,"  said  Mrs. 
Brand,  looking  suggestively  towards  the  table. 
"  I  don't  think  we  could  find  him." 

"  That's  too  bad,"  remarked  Mr.  Overholt, 
gravely.  "  I  wanted  to  tell  him  a  story  about 
a  little  monkey  I  saw  down-town  to-day.  He  had 
on  a  red  cap  and  a  red  coat,  and  danced  when  his 
master  played  the  organ." 

"  Was  it  a  gurdy-organ1?  "  inquired  a  muffled 
little  voice. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Brand,  it  was  a  gurdy-organ,  and 
when  the  man  finished  playing  the  monkey  took 
off  his  cap,  and  walked  around  for  pennies." 

"  Did  you  give  him  one*?  "  inquired  Chrys,  in- 
advertently presenting  himself  to  his  father's 
clutch  in  his  anxiety  about  the  monkey's  finances. 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  had  for- 
gotten Papa? "  asked  Mr.  Overholt,  after  due 
preliminaries  had  been  gone  through  with,  and 
Chrys  was  submissively  established  on  his  knee. 

"I  so  little;  I  don't  know  anything,"  faltered 
the  child,  feeling  that  some  excuse  for  his  heinous 
conduct  must  be  forthcoming,  and  driven  to  his 
wits'  ends  to  devise  one.  But  to  his  relief  this  one 


132  MRS.    BRAND 

appeared  to  be  satisfactory,  and  then  the  flood- 
gates of  his  speech  were  opened  in  earnest. 

"  I  will  show  you  my  new  book,"  he  said,  gen- 
erously smiling  upon  his  father,  as  he  proceeded 
without  delay  to  a  sonorous  exposition  of  its 
gaudy  contents.  "  This  is  H,  and  means  hipma- 
possamus.  A  hipmapossamus  is  a  big  fiss."  Then 
with  a  sympathetic  droop  in  his  voice,  "  Poor  hip- 
mapossamus. He  has  to  stay  in  the  water  all  the 
time,  and  he  gets  all  soaking  wet.  And  these  are 
buffi ts,  and  here  are  taggers." 

"  Buffits  and  taggers!"  interjected  Mr.  Over- 
holt,  suddenly.  "  Great  Caesar,  child !  What 
dread  beasts  are  those"?  " 

"  Buffaloes  and  tigers,  no  doubt,"  said  Mrs. 
Brand.  "  But  I  should  think  you  might  infer 
from  the  picture  before  you,  if  you're  giving  it 
the  attention  Chrys  will  expect." 

"  I  stand  reproved,"  said  Mr.  Overholt.  "  I 
must  admit  I  was  thinking  of  something  else." 

Mrs.  Brand  did  not  look  up  from  the  bit  of 
fancy-work  with  which  she  was  toying,  but  she 
felt  the  intention  in  his  remark,  and  she  resented 
the  tell-tale  color  that  forced  its  way  to  her  face. 


MRS.    BRAND  133 

This  was  not  at  all  the  readjustment  she  had 
planned  when  she  had  thought  the  whole  affair 
over  in  the  broad  light  of  reason  and  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance from  the  enemy.  But  Chrys  evidently 
objected  to  anything  that  threatened  to  interrupt 
the  even  tenor  of  his  monologue,  and  he  hurried 
on,  a  little  frown  of  disapproval  on  his  face.  "  I 
will  tell  you  a  story  about  a  buffit  and  a  boy. 
Once  a  little  boy's  mamma  sent  him  down-town 
on  an  errand.  But  the  naughty  little  boy  ran  away 
into  the  woods  to  play.  And  it  was  an  awful 
beary-wood,  and  there  were  buffits  and  taggers 
there,  too.  And  a  great  big  buffit  ran  at  him,  and 
stuck  him  full  of  holes  with  its  horns,  and  so  he 
died.  And  the  bears  ate  him  up.  And  when  his 
mamma  came  to  find  him  there  was  nothing  left 
but " 

"  Holes !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Overholt,  frivo- 
lously, much  to  his  son's  disgust  and  bewilderment. 

"  I  must  really  congratulate  you,  Mrs.  Brand, 
on  the  success  of  your  training.  I  don't  think  I 
ever  heard  so  hopelessly  moral  a  tale  before." 

"  I  don't  think  it's  due  to  me.  Chrys  is  fond  of 
strong  effects." 


134  MRS.    BRAND 

"  P  stands  for  puffy-dog,"  continued  Chrys, 
eyeing  his  father  suspiciously.  "  B  is  for  buff- 
fly.  How  do  angels  get  wings  on*?  " 

This  question  came  with  a  suddenness  that  was 
paralyzing.  And  as  no  one  vouchsafed  an  im- 
mediate solution  of  the  physiological  problem, 
Chrys  kindly  spared  the  ignorance  of  his  audience 
by  moving  on  to  an  adjacent  topic. 

"  E  is  for  egg.  And  I  will  tell  you,  Papa,  what 
you  ought  to  do  when  chickens  won't  lay  their 
eggs  in  their  nests.  You  ought  to  get  a  nice, 
smooth,  stone  egg,  and  put  it  in  the  nest.  Then 
the  chicken  would  look  in  and  see  it  and  say,  '  Oh 
some  other  people  have  been  here,  laying  their 
eggs,  and  now  I  needn't  mind.'  " 

Mrs.  Brand  laughed,  but  she  said  nothing.  She 
had  a  feeling  that  in  this,  their  first  meeting  after 
so  long  a  separation,  the  father  and  his  child 
should  be  left  to  themselves.  But  Mr.  Overholt 
had  other  plans.  He  loved  his  boy  better  than 
anything  else  in  the  world,  but  we  do  not  always 
enjoy  most  what  we  love  best.  Sometimes  while 
he  had  been  away  he  had  affected  to  doubt  Mrs. 
Brand's  fascination  for  him;  it  was  now  all  the 


MRS.    BRAND  135 

more  agreeable  to  luxuriate  in  the  thrill  that  her 
presence  undoubtedly  produced  in  him. 

"  I  suppose  this  boy  doesn't  stay  up  all  the 
evening,"  he  said  now,  turning  to  Mrs.  Brand. 
"  His  conversation  is  like  cayenne  pepper,  a  little 
of  it  goes  a  long  way.  " 

He  had  expected  the  bell  to  be  rung  for  Jane, 
but  Mrs.  Brand  got  up  herself. 

"  Come  Chrys,"  she  said  smiling,  and  holding 
out  her  hand. 

But  the  child  held  back.  "  Then  will  you  play 
tag*?  "  he  inquired,  cautiously. 

"  Oh  yes,  I'll  play  tag,"  she  answered. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  afflicts  you  like 
that?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Overholt.  "  I  think  you 
had  better  let  me  take  him  home  to-night." 

"  No,  I  can't  do  that.  When  you're  settled 
into  regular  ways  again  I'll  lend  him  to  you." 

A  few  minutes  later  Mr.  Brand  and  the  min- 
ister paused  in  their  conversation  to  listen  to  the 
flying  feet  above. 

"  Oh,  this  performance  takes  place  every  night," 
said  Mr.  Brand,  a  trifle  irritably. 

"  I've  a  great  mind  to  go  up  there  and  give  them 


136  MRS.    BRAND 

a  scare,"  said  Mr.  Overholt,  and  Mr.  Brand  offer- 
ing no  objection  he  stole  lightly  up  the  stairs.  Just 
as  he  reached  the  top  Mrs.  Brand  flew  by.  He 
felt  sure  she  had  not  seen  him  in  the  dim  light, 
and  he  started  in  swift  pursuit  of  her.  But  she 
had  seen  him,  and  with  a  panic  quite  dispropor- 
tionate to  the  occasion  she  vanished  into  the  dark- 
ness, and  fled  down  the  back  stairs.  On  her  way  to 
the  sitting-room  she  encountered  Jane,  whom  she 
sent  up-stairs  to  attend  to  Chrys.  Then  she  sat 
down  to  her  work  again,  demurely  enough,  but 
with  a  glancing  smile  about  her  lips  that  belied 
her  manner. 

Her  husband,  laying  down  his  paper  for  a 
moment,  looked  at  her  with  a  pang.  It  seemed 
almost  cruel  that  she  should  look  so  young,  "  as 
young  as  when  I  first  saw  her,"  he  thought,  and 
wondered  why.  There  was  a  charming  color  in 
her  face,  and  her  breath  from  running  still  came 
short  between  her  smiling  lips. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Overholt  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Up-stairs  with  Chrys,"  she  answered,  with 
sudden  gravity.  "  I  thought  perhaps  he  would  like 
a  few  moments  alone  with  the  child." 


MRS.    BRAND  137 

"  You  can't  think  how  I  appreciate  your 
thoughtf ulness,"  said  Mr.  Overholt.  He  was 
standing  between  the  portieres.  "  No,  thank  you, 
Mr.  Brand.  I  must  go.  But  McMichael  says  you 
have  a  new  picturegraph  of  him  to  show  me,  Mrs. 
Brand." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  glad  of  an  excuse  to  escape 
from  his  eyes.  "  It  was  to  be  a  surprise  for  you 
when  you  came  home."  She  went  over  to  a  large 
portfolio  and  took  out  the  photograph.  She  looked 
about  for  a  suitable  place  to  stand  it,  and  finally 
propped  it  up  on  the  table  where  it  would  receive 
the  best  light. 

"  There ! "  she  exclaimed  enthusiastically. 
"  The  photographer  said  it  was  the  handsomest 
picture  of  the  handsomest  child  he  had  ever  seen." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Brand  dryly.  "  No 
doubt  the  man  thought  you  were  his  mother." 

Mrs.  Brand  ignored  the  remark.  She  stood 
facing  her  husband,  looking  at  the  photograph  in 
rather  a  defiant  attitude,  her  head  thrown  back, 
and  one  arm  behind  her.  Mr.  Overholt  came  over 
and  stood  beside  her. 

"  It  really  is  charming,"  he  admitted  after  a 


138  MRS.    BRAND 

moment.  "  I  had  no  idea  he  could  be  worked  up 
into  such  an  effect  as  that."  He  leaned  down  to 
examine  the  finish  of  the  picture,  and  then  stepped 
back  to  his  former  place,  but  so  close  to  Mrs.  Brand 
that  his  shoulder  touched  hers.  Mr.  Brand  had 
turned  his  back  on  them,  and  was  deep  in  his 
paper.  There  were  two  things  in  a  man's  life  that 
he  really  believed  nothing  but  death  or  a  fire 
should  be  suffered  to  interrupt,  his  prayers  and 
the  perusal  of  his  paper.  And  so  it  happened  that 
before  Mrs.  Brand  could  move  away,  she  felt  her- 
self in  the  vise  of  an  electric  shock  for  Mr.  Over- 
holt  had  grasped  the  hand  she  had  thrown  so 
carelessly  behind  her,  and  held  it  with  a  firmness 
that  was  effectual  against  any  ordinary  methods 
of  escape.  She  stood  there  beside  him,  a  prisoner 
flushing  and  paling  alternately,  desperate  one 
moment,  terrified  the  next  lest  they  should  betray 
themselves  to  Mr.  Brand. 

"  How  long  ago  was  this  taken*?  "  asked  Mr. 
Overholt,  coolly. 

"About  a  month  ago.  It  was  done  in  New 
York."  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  spoke  in  heart- 
beats. 


MRS.    BRAND  139 

"  I  have  generally  managed  to  get  even  with 
people  who  have  put  me  under  obligations  to 
them,"  he  went  on  in  his  even  voice,  "  but  it 
puzzles  me  to  know  how  to  deal  with  you,  espe- 
cially when  you  won't  play  tag,"  he  said,  with  his 
frank  laugh,  letting  her  hand  drop  at  last.  "  Am 
I  to  take  this  home  with  me  to-night*?  " 

"  I  will  send  it  to  the  parsonage,"  she  said 
struggling  to  keep  the  indignation  out  of  her  voice. 

Mr.  Overholt  said  good-night  to  Mr.  Brand, 
and  then  held  out  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Brand,  and  she 
was  forced  to  offer  him  the  one  he  had  held  but  a 
moment  before. 

"  There  is  no  way  in  which  I  can  even  faintly 
express  my  gratitude  to  you."  His  eyes  dwelt  on 
hers  mournfully,  and  his  voice  matched  them  with 
its  melancholy  cadence.  "  As  for  McMichael,  if 
a  little  child's  love  counts  for  anything,  you  know 
how  complete  has  been  your  conquest." 

As  they  stood  there,  Mrs.  Brand  with  her 
stately  head  downcast,  and  Mr.  Overholt  bending 
towards  her,  the  expression  on  his  face  one  of 
reticent  grief,  Mr.  Brand  looking  up  suddenly  at 
them  was  struck  by  a  thought  as  keen  as  sharpened 
steel. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  first  Sunday  after  Mr.  Overholt's  return 
from  his  vacation  found  the  Church  of  the  Pil- 
grims packed  to  the  doors.  The  occasion  was  an 
interesting  one  from  any  point  of  view  —  cer- 
tainly not  the  least  so  to  the  minds  of  a  score 
of  self -prospective  mothers-in-law,  for  whatever 
odium  attaches  to  that  domestic  office  there  is 
none  so  earnestly  coveted.  American  maidenhood 
of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  of  every  type  and  tint  of 
feature  as  of  finance,  displayed  itself  before  the 
pulpit  on  that  sunny  September  morning,  row 
upon  row.  While  any  lack  of  devotion  to  his 
wife's  memory  would  have  been  esteemed  a  serious 
lapse  on  the  pastor's  part,  yet  there  was  a  thrill 
of  suspicion  in  beauty's  breast  that  while  his 
heart  might  very  appropriately  be  in  the  grave  his 
eyes  were  still  at  large,  and  subject  to  arrest. 

At  two  minutes  to  eleven  the  church  was  full, 
and   in   breathless   condition   subsequent   to   the 

140 


MRS.    BRAND  141 

forced  march  by  which  the  average  Sunday  morn- 
ing congregation  arrives  at  its  destination.  Mr. 
Overholt  was  in  his  place,  the  cynosure  of  sympa- 
thetic eyes,  his  head  bent  forward  upon  his  clasped 
hands,  as  the  first,  faint  notes  of  the  organ  fell 
upon  the  waiting  throng,  when  a  group  moving 
slowly  up  the  aisle  attracted  to  itself  general  atten- 
tion. "  There  goes  Brand,"  whispered  a  new- 
comer; "he's  got  money  to  burn." 

"  Guess  he  needs  it.  Youth  and  beauty  come 
high,"  replied  his  companion,  laconically. 

"  See !  "  palpitated  a  maiden  to  her  mother. 
"  She's  got  his  boy  with  her." 

For  Mrs.  Brand  had  assumed  the  responsibility 
of  bringing  Chrys  to  church  with  her,  and  as  she 
followed  her  husband  to  his  pew  she  was  by  no 
means  unconscious  of  the  unusual  interest  aroused 
by  this  particular  "  weekly  spectacle  we  are  to 
make  of  ourselves  "  as  she  had  characterized  their 
church-going.  But  she  was  to-day  the  central  fig- 
ure in  a  picture  that  lingered  long  in  the  memories 
of  some  who  saw  it.  Though  golden  with  the  glow 
of  September's  sun  the  weather  was  like  cider  with 
a  bead  on  it  —  there  was  a  nip  in  the  sparkle  like  a 


142  MRS.    BRAND 

foretaste  of  frost,  and  this  tall,  stately  woman 
looked  like  the  spirit  of  the  season  made  manifest 
a  la  mode.  She  was  all  in  golden,  brown  velvet 
with  revelations  here  and  there  of  dull,  pink  satin 
linings,  and  in  her  face  there  was  an  unwonted 
touch  of  color  to  offset  the  brilliant  beauty  of  her 
eyes.  For  a  moment,  as  she  had  stolen  a  parting 
glance  at  herself  in  her  mirror,  she  had  longed  to 
believe  in  the  beauty  that  it  reflected  to  her. 
Then  she  shook  her  fist  at  it  derisively.  "  No,  I 
can  fool  other  people,  but  I'm  not  such  a  fool  as 
to  fool  myself."  This  morning  the  usual  proud 
aloofness  of  her  bearing  was  tempered  by  her 
solicitude  for  the  child  beside  her,  whose  graceful, 
little  figure  but  accentuated  the  fine  outlines  of 
her  own. 

Could  Miss  Alta  High,  the  "  vocal-highkicker  " 
as  Mr.  Boyington  called  her,  of  that  famous 
quartet  that  worshipped  God  on  Sundays  for 
revenue  only  at  the  Church  of  the  Pilgrims,  have 
realized  how  little  Mr.  Overholt  heard  of  her  solo 
that  morning  she  would  have  smiled  less  sweetly 
upon  him  when  he  complimented  her  so  fittingly 
upon  it  at  the  end  of  the  service.  And  could  the 


MRS.    BRAND  143 

honorable  promoters  of  Beauty's  prospects  have 
realized  how  slight  was  the  impression  made  upon 
him  by  the  charms  they  led  in  train,  perhaps  they 
would  not  have  trod  on  each  others'  toes  quite  so 
assiduously  for  precedence  in  greeting  their  spirit- 
ual director.  ' 

Up  in  the  gallery  sat  Dr.  Challoner,  who  had 
not  been  even  a  casual  attendant  at  the  Church 
of  the  Pilgrims,  where  religion  according  to  his 
mind  was  more  a  matter  of  pretence  than  of  prac- 
tice. He  had  had  a  "  private  view  "  of  the  char- 
acter of  one  of  its  most  honored  officials,  a  man 
who  was  a  property  owner  in  Moon  Street,  and 
who  had  waxed  fat  upon  the  blood-money  of  his 
rentals.  Dr.  Challoner  never  saw  him  without  a 
swift  vision  of  that  section  of  hell  which  was  held 
on  earth  in  his  name. 

But  an  irresistible  curiosity  had  drawn  him 
hither  this  morning.  Here  in  the  presence  of  this 
handsome  theological  expert  he  relinquished  him- 
self to  the  subtleties  of  an  enigma  that  defied  solu- 
tion. "  Is  the  man  a  downright  villain,  or  is  he 
an  erratic  genius  who  suffers  from  the  restraints  of 
a  mistaken  calling?  "  he  asked  himself  for  the 


144  MRS.    BRAND 

twentieth  time,  as  he  listened  to  the  modulations 
of  a  prayer  "  which  for  beauty  of  thought  and  per- 
fection of  utterance  has  never  been  surpassed  in 
this  city,"  as  one  of  the  great  dailies  enthusias- 
tically described  it  twenty-four  hours  later.  But 
behind  all  Dr.  Challoner's  impersonal  criticisms 
of  the  minister  there  was  wedged  a  suspicion  that 
haunted  him  —  he  had  not  forgotten  the  death  of 
this  man's  wife. 

Chrys  comported  himself  until  the  beginning  of 
the  sermon  with  commendable  discretion,  but  he 
succumbed  quickly  to  his  father's  eloquence,  and 
sank  in  a  soft,  little  heap  against  Mrs.  Brand's 
arm.  She  shifted  her  position  slightly  to  accom- 
modate the  sleepy,  little  head,  and  then  she  lifted 
her  face,  sweet  with  the  tenderness  of  a  lingering 
smile,  to  the  speaker.  In  that  instant  some  subtle 
force  administered  to  her  a  shock  that  struck  the 
smile  from  her  lips,  and  left  her  shivering  with  an 
indefinable  sense  of  repulsion  and  dread.  What 
was  it?  She  looked  in  bewilderment  at  her  hus- 
band, but  his  face  seemed  even  more  rigid  than 
usual.  Her  glance  fluttered  back  to  Mr.  Overholt, 
and  then  she  felt  herself  shaken  again  by  an  uncon- 


MRS.    BRAND  145 

trollable  emotion.  Something  within  her  was 
struggling  —  was  shrinking  back  from  him,  far 
beyond  the  confines  of  the  crowded  church,  out 
towards  the  sun-swept  spaces  of  eternity.  For 
those  fleet  moments  of  crisis  she  knew  herself  in 
the  grasp  of  a  power  that  compelled  her  to  a  swift 
vision  of  this  man  as  he  was  and  in  the  fierce  light 
of  its  illumination  she  shuddered  again  and  again 
with  irrepressible  loathing.  Brilliant  periods  of 
oratory  fell  unheeded  upon  her  dulled  ears,  and 
the  sermon  reached  its  conclusion  in  a  climax  of 
eloquence  that  won  it  an  enduring  place  among 
homiletical  models  without  moving  her.  The 
voices  of  the  choir  rose  in  an  enthusiastic  burst  of 
moral  sentiments,  and  then  the  congregation 
waited  in  silence  the  words  of  benediction.  Chrys 
stood  on  uncertain  little  legs  at  Mrs.  Brand's  side, 
but  Mr.  Brand  did  not  rise,  and  as  his  wife  glanced 
back  at  him  she  saw  with  sudden  alarm  that  his 
head  had  fallen  heavily  forward  upon  his  breast. 
She  bent  over  him  in  distress,  but  in  the  moments 
of  bewilderment  that  followed  she  realized  noth- 
ing with  any  clearness  save  that  Dr.  Challoner 
was  there,  and  that  in  his  presence  there  was 


146  MRS.    BRAND 

strength.  She  felt  the  pressure  of  people  about 
her  anxiously  inquiring  what  had  happened,  and 
then  it  lessened,  and  Dr.  Challoner  said  to  her 
quietly :  "  Take  my  arm,  and  come  to  the  vestry." 
She  had  quite  forgotten  Chrys  until  he  clutched 
her  hand.  In  the  vestry  they  found  Mr.  Overholt 
from  whom  any  sight  of  the  occurrence  had  been 
obscured  by  the  crush  of  people  towards  the  doors. 
He  had  already  been  so  overwhelmed  with  con- 
gratulations that  it  seemed  after  all  only  natural 
that  these  friends  should  come  to  add  their  tribute 
to  his  genius.  So  he  came  forward  with  a  smile, 
and  the  air  of  alert  gallanterie  that  was  indigenous 
to  him  in  the  presence  of  a  woman.  But  Dr. 
Challoner  lifted  his  hand  imperatively  to  ward  off 
trivialities  of  speech,  and  said  quickly,  "  Mr. 
Brand  has  had  a  seizure  of  some  sort,  and  I  have 
brought  Mrs.  Brand  here  to  wait  for  a  few 
minutes." 

It  was  in  moments  like  this  that  Mr.  Overholt's 
directness  of  sympathy  and  unaffected  kindliness 
bound  to  him  people  who  were  uninfluenced  by  his 
ability,  or  even  sceptical  of  its  integrity  of  pur- 
pose. In  the  instant  of  Dr.  Challoner's  remark 


MRS.    BRAND  U7 

his  brain  grew  tense,  and  no  doubt  he  felt  as 
shocked  as  he  looked.  He  rolled  forward  a  chair 
for  Mrs.  Brand,  and  then  he  turned  to  the  doctor. 
"  You  must  let  me  do  the  first  thing  I  can  that 
will  be  of  any  service  to  you." 

Dr.  Challoner  hesitated  a  moment,  looking 
doubtfully  at  Mrs.  Brand.  "  Never  mind  me," 
she  said.  "  Go  —  both  of  you."  So  they  hurried 
away. 

After  an  interval  of  some  minutes  Mr.  Over- 
holt  returned  alone.  "  Now  if  you  will  come  with 
me,  Mrs.  Brand,  I  will  drive  home  with  you.  Dr. 
Challoner  is  on  his  way  there  with  your  husband." 
His  manner  toward  her  was  an  exhibition  of  him- 
self at  his  very  best  —  a  differential  kindliness 
that  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  But  she  was 
almost  unconscious  of  him,  until  just  as  they 
reached  the  door  when  he  said  gently,  "  I  think 
you  will  agree  with  me  that  it  is  better  that  I 
should  take  McMichael  home.  You  will  have 
many  things  to  attend  to  if  Mr.  Brand  should  not 
rally  immediately." 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  silence,  uncon- 
scious of  the  wistful  appeal  in  her  eyes.  She  was 


148  MRS.    BRAND 

full  of  undefined  doubts  and  alarms  of  which  he 
was  the  vital  cause,  though  perhaps  she  did  not 
realize  that,  for  the  inrush  of  subsequent  impres- 
sions had  swept  from  her  mind  all  remembrance 
of  her  experience  during  the  sermon.  With  a  sud- 
den tightening  of  her  heart  she  bent  down  and 
kissed  the  child.  Her  guardianship  of  him  was 
ended.  She  did  not  speak  during  the  homeward 
drive,  but  when  she  came  to  part  from  Chrys  he 
clasped  his  strong  little  arms  about  her  neck. 

"  Let  me  go,  dear.  Uncle  Brand  is  sick,  so  sick, 
and  he  wants  Aunt  Cecily." 

"  Doesn't  he  want  me  too*? "  wailed  Chrys, 
with  an  instant  sense  of  injury.  She  unclasped 
his  fingers  gently,  whispering  to  him  the  while. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Aunt  Cecily,"  he  answered  tear- 
fully. "  I  are  a  big  man."  Then  with  an  ominous 
droop  in  his  voice  he  added,  "  But  I  a  very  little 
big  man." 

A  drawn  smile  crossed  her  face.  "  No,"  she 
said  to  Mr.  Overholt.  "  Don't  come  in  with  me 
now,  but  —  but  do  all  you  can  for  Chrys." 

Dr.  Challoner  met  her  in  her  sitting-room,  and 
the  sight  of  his  face  brought  to  her  again  the  same 


MRS.    BRAND  149 

feeling  of  rest  and  refuge  of  which  she  had  been 
conscious  in  the  church. 

"  Come  now !  "  he  exclaimed,  reassuringly. 
"  Don't  look  at  me  with  such  big,  anxious  eyes. 
Uncle  John  is  doing  nicely,  and  I  daresay  in  a  few 
days  we  shall  know  hardly  anything  about  this. 
Dr.  Bradbury  is  with  him.  I  saw  you  coming  and 
hurried  down  to  meet  you." 

"What  was  it?     Paralysis'?" 

"  Just  a  slight  stroke." 

"  It's  the  beginning  of  the  end*?  "  she  asked,  the 
words  coming  boldly  from  her  eager  lips. 

Dr.  Challoner  looked  at  her  in  silent  outrage, 
which,  in  her  absorption,  she  interpreted  as  tacit 
acquiescence  in  her  remark.  For  some  moments 
she  said  nothing  and  then,  bringing  her  hands 
together  suddenly,  she  spoke  with  low-toned 
intensity,  as  if  the  words  were  inexorably  crushed 
out  of  her. 

"  I  have  been  a  cruel  woman.  He  has  been 
kind  and  good  to  me  ever  since  he  saw  me  first, 
and  I  have  cared  nothing  about  him."  She  would 
have  spoken  further,  but  Dr.  Challoner  said  with 
peremptory  abruptness,  "Be  quiet!  You  are 


150  MRS.    BRAND 

excited  by  what  has  happened,  and  are  ready  to 
imagine  all  sorts  of  things.  When  Dr.  Bradbury 
comes  down  you  shall  hear  his  report." 

"And  then  may  I  go  up  to  him?  "  she  asked, 
with  a  humility  that  sat  strangely  upon  her. 

"  I  fear  that  would  be  unwise,"  he  said  reluct- 
antly. "  His  recovery  depends  entirely  upon 
absolute  freedom  from  mental  excitement,  and  you 
are  overcharged  with  that  yourself  just  now.  Try 
to  be  patient.  There  will  be  plenty  for  you  to  do." 

He  looked  at  her  with  careful  scrutiny,  won- 
dering what  further  complexities  were  involved  in 
the  revelation  she  had  just  made  to  him  of  her 
attitude  towards  her  husband.  Her  pride  and  his 
innate  delicacy  and  loyalty  had  been  sufficient 
safeguard  against  any  interchange  of  opinion  on  a 
marriage  that  had  seemed  to  him  strange  at  first, 
but  which  time  had  accustomed  him  to  think  of 
without  surprise.  Now  he  was  gradually  becom- 
ing certain  that  between  herself  and  Mr.  Overholt 
there  was  some  mystery.  "  He  holds  one  end  of 
the  string  and  she  the  other,"  he  thought  as  he 
looked  at  her,  and  then  in  spite  of  a  sense  of  anger 
and  exasperation  his  heart  softened  at  the  sight 


MRS.    BRAND  151 

of  her  forlorn  appearance.  After  all,  what  had 
life  brought  her1?  Only  what  she  had  brought 
to  it.  An  insignificant  woman  would  have  re- 
mained insignificant  in  spite  of  the  purchasing 
power  of  wealth  and  position.  And  to  be  an  old 
man's  wife  was  not  a  sinecure.  Whatever  his  mis- 
givings about  Mr.  Overholt  might  be,  within  his 
heart  he  harbored  no  doubts  of  her  real  loyalty  to 
her  husband.  But  for  the  first  time  he  realized 
how  difficult  must  be  a  loyalty  of  the  letter  unless 
reinforced  by  that  of  the  spirit.  An  uncontrol- 
lable impulse  seized  him. 

"  Whatever  your  difficulties  are,  do  not  speak 
of  them  to  anyone.  If  you  must  have  help  at  any 
time,  you  know  that  you  can  rely  on  me  for  it," 
he  said,  weakly  enough  considering  the  ebb  and 
flow  so  fast  and  furious  beneath  the  surface  of  his 
thoughts. 

"  I  know,  Bruin."  But  already  Mrs.  Brand's 
mood  had  changed,  and  he  saw  with  a  curious 
sense  of  relief  the  return  of  her  reserve. 

Mr.  Brand  rallied  with  a  rapidity  that  exceeded 
the  doctors'  most  sanguine  predictions.  When  he 
was  able  to  be  down-stairs,  and  to  attend  for  a 


152  MRS.    BRAND 

short  time  every  day  to  the  details  of  such  business 
as  was  imperative,  Mrs.  Brand's  sitting-room 
began  to  bear  a  resemblance  to  a  down-town  office. 
Old  cronies  and  business  acquaintances  came  in 
frequently  to  spend  an  hour  with  him,  and  sought 
to  encourage  him  by  noisy  comments  on  his  steady 
improvement.  "  He'll  be  as  good  as  new  again  in 
no  time."  He  listened  to  them  with  indifferent 
contempt,  for  he  knew  better,  and  his  mind  was 
hungrily  occupied  with  schemes  that  cried  aloud 
for  time,  that  precious  time  which  was  slipping 
through  his  fingers  like  the  hurrying  sands  in  an 
hour-glass. 

Sometimes  he  would  sit  in  silence  for  a  long 
while  looking  at  his  wife,  and  she  would  divine 
in  him  a  new  tenderness  for  her  quite  unlike  the 
boastful  pride  which  had  often  aroused  her  resent- 
ment. 

"  Poor  child !  "  he  murmured  one  day,  uncon- 
sciously giving  utterance  to  the  feeling  that  beset 
him  as  he  watched  her. 

Difficult  tears  filled  her  eyes,  and  a  little  while 
later  she  went  up-stairs  and  gave  way  to  a  passion 
of  grief  and  regret.  She  would  have  given  any- 


MRS.    BRAND  153 

thing  at  that  moment  to  be  able  to  persuade  her- 
self that  she  loved  him  then  or  that  she  ever  had. 
Shut  in  as  Mr.  Brand  now  was  from  the  active 
pursuit  of  money-getting,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
business  existence  he  had  unwonted  opportunity 
for  the  study  of  relative  values.  His  religion 
stood  him  in  good  stead,  and  with  the  calm  assur- 
ance which  came  from  years  of  conviction  he 
dwelt  upon  the  beatific  vision  so  soon  to  become 
the  enduring  reality.  Day  by  day  he  loosened  his 
hold  upon  the  cares  of  the  life  which  had  hitherto 
engrossed  him.  The  present,  for  him  personally, 
ceased  to  be  of  importance.  His  interests  and  his 
hopes,  all  those  vague  delicate  yearnings  of  which 
he  himself  was  hardly  conscious,  had  seemingly 
passed  on  ahead  of  his  poor,  disabled  body  into 
that  habitation  not  made  with  hands.  Perhaps  it 
was  because  of  the  severed  associations  that  were 
so  soon  to  be  knit  again  in  the  bonds  of  eternity 
that  his  mind  reverted  with  strange  tenacity  to  his 
early  experiences.  Hardly  a  day  passed  in  which 
he  did  not  lose  himself  in  those  long-past  times  of 
struggle  and  stress,  when  he  had  felt  strong  to  face 
the  world  and  its  chances  with  his  happy-hearted 


154  MRS.    BRAND 

little  Mary  at  his  side.  He  turned  over  with  the 
delight  of  discovery  bits  of  their  experiences, 
which  had  since  lain  forgotten  in  his  mind.  How 
fresh  it  seemed  and  how  sweet!  His  heart  beat 
again  like  the  boy's  it  had  been  then  when  first  he 
wooed  her.  She  was  only  a  slip  of  a  girl  in  a  pink 
sunbonnet.  How  he  had  hated  that  sun-bon- 
net —  it  was  always  in  the  way. 

He  came  back  to  the  cold  reality  of  his  present 
life  with  a  sense  of  shock,  and  a  consciousness  of 
loss,  which  made  him  feel  almost  guilty.  For  with 
that  mellow  past  and  in  the  nearing  future  between 
which  the  present  was  but  a  narrowing  step,  his 
wife  had  no  part.  The  wife  who  had  died  with 
their  baby  —  how  could  anyone  take  her  place? 

But  his  mind  dwelt  upon  his  young  wife's 
future  with  increasing  anxiety.  Perhaps  he  over- 
rated the  attractiveness  in  which  he  had  taken  so 
much  pride,  but  he  could  not  ignore  the  dangers 
which  would  beset  a  woman  still  young,  who 
should  become  the  mistress  of  her  fate  and  of  his 
fortune.  The  thought  which  had  pierced  him  with 
its  poisoned  tip  just  before  his  illness  recurred  to 
him  continually,  but  there  was  no  rankling  bitter- 


MRS.    BRAND  155 

ness  in  it  for  him  now.  The  more  he  considered 
it  the  more  he  felt  he  was  called  upon  to  be  a  kind 
of  Providence  to  his  wife.  What  did  she  know 
of  life'?  But  he,  understanding  her  and  her  needs, 
and  the  circumstances  surrounding  her  —  there 
was  a  solemn  responsibility  laid  upon  him  which 
he  must  not  shirk.  It  was  such  a  clear  case,  and 
it  grew  daily  more  fascinating  to  him.  It  would 
be  the  solution  of  all  his  anxieties  concerning  her, 
temporal  and  spiritual.  But  how  to  attain  it? 
That  he  set  himself  patiently  at  work  to  discover. 

Mr.  Overholt  came  in  to  see  him  frequently, 
and  they  discussed  everything  from  the  state  of 
the  stock  market  to  the  minutest  matter  of  church 
detail.  They  discussed  people,  too,  Dr.  Challoner, 
and  even  Mrs.  Brand,  and  Mr.  Overholt  who 
could  not  know  that  Mr.  Brand  was  pursuing  an 
investigation  along  original  lines,  and  with  unus- 
ual ends  in  view,  was  sometimes  distinctly  aston- 
ished at  the  problems  that  were  propounded  in 
these  conversations.  But  he  met  them  all  with 
unfailing  tact  and  readiness. 

One  warm  springlike  day  in  November  Mr. 
Brand  seemed  to  feel  a  return  of  the  vigor  that 


156  MRS.    BRAND 

had  carried  him  unflinchingly  through  over  half  a 
century  of  business  drudgery.  When  Dr.  Chal- 
loner  came  in  at  eleven  o'clock  he  preferred  an 
unexpected  request. 

"  See  here,  Arthur,  I've  listened  pretty  patiently 
to  your  tirades  about  your  people  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  but  I've  been  too  busy  to  pay  much 
attention  to  it.  Now  I  may  never  feel  again  as 
well  as  I  do  to-day,  and  I  just  want  you  to  take 
me  to  the  worst  sink-hole  you've  got.  I  want  to 
see  the  thing  for  myself." 

Dr.  Challoner  hesitated.  Yet  it  was  the  one 
thing  above  all  others  which  he  had  often  desired. 
"  I  do  not  know,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Perhaps  you 

do  not  realize no,  of  course  you  could  not, 

the  horror  of  those  places." 

"  That's  all  the  more  reason  why  I  should  see 
it,"  said  the  old  man  sturdily,  with  deepening 
lines  of  anxiety  on  his  furrowed  face. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Dr.  Challoner  again. 
"  Let  us  consult  Dr.  Bradbury  first."  He  was 
unwilling  to  assume  a  responsibility  that  he  might 
plausibly  be  charged  with  having  invited  in  his 
own  interests. 


MRS.    BRAND  157 

"  Dr.  Bradbury !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Brand,  con- 
temptuously. "  When  I  say  I  want  to  do  a  thing 
it  means  I'm  going  to  do  it."  He  was  getting 
angry  and  excited. 

Mrs.  Brand,  who  had  been  sitting  by  in  silence, 
looked  up  from  her  work  to  say  quickly,  "  Don't 
argue  about  it,  Arthur.  John  knows  what  he 
wants  and  what  he  can  do  better  than  anyone 
else." 

"  That's  right,  Cecily !  "  said  her  husband  heart- 
ily, with  a  smile  of  approval  for  her,  at  which  she 
felt  an  odd,  little  quiver  of  gratitude. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  down  and  see  Chrys  while 
you  are  gone,"  she  said,  as  she  followed  them  out 
to  the  carriage  with  parting  words  of  caution. 
"  The  poor,  little  monkey  must  think  I  have 
deserted  him." 

"  Why  don't  you  bring  him  back  to  stay  a 
couple  of  days'?  "  inquired  Mr.  Brand. 

"Should  you  mind?  He  would  make  a  good 
deal  of  noise,  you  know,"  she  added  doubtfully, 
tempering  her  eagerness. 

"  No,"  he  called  back,  as  the  carriage  drove  off, 
"  not  if  it  would  please  you  to  have  him.  " 


CHAPTER  IX 

MR.  BRAND  returned  from  his  tour  of  inspection 
apparently  none  the  worse  for  the  fatigue  that  it 
had  entailed  upon  him.  Indeed  it  was  but  the 
initial  stage  of  an  investigation  that  he  pursued 
with  the  same  relentless  devotion  to  detail  which 
had  marked  his  career  in  the  business  world.  Mrs. 
Brand's  sitting-room  underwent  a  further  trans- 
formation; it  became  the  rallying-point  of  people 
as  motley  in  opinion  as  in  apparel. 

"  Whatever  is  he  after4? "  said  Mrs.  Brand  to 
Dr.  Challoner. 

"  I  don't  know,  and  I  expect  to  have  to  wait  to 
find  out.  Sometimes  I  feel  rather  apprehensive." 

"  Of  what?  " 

"  Schemes.  Organization.  Don't  you  see?  " 
he  said,  smiling  down  at  her.  "  When  you  have 
just  your  heart  and  two  hands  to  work  with,  it's 
easy.  You're  simply  one  humble  man,  and  you 
do  every  next  thing  that  comes  in  your  way.  And 

158 


MRS.    BRAND  159 

that's  all  you  can  do.  There  aren't  any  complica- 
tions about  it.  You  just  try  to  love  your  neigh- 
bor as  yourself.  Perhaps  you  don't  even  suc- 
ceed very  well,  but  you  keep  on  trying.  But 
when  you  begin  to  plan  how  to  spend  money  on 
your  neighbor  — — "  he  paused  with  a  wry  face. 

"  But,  Bruin,  you  know  you've  always  been 
wanting  money  for  them." 

"  Of  course.  But  that  was  for  a  particular  man 
who  was  starving  or  a  particular  woman  who  was 
dying.  If  you  saw  a  person  freezing  to  death,  and 
you  had  a  blazing  fire  in  your  room,  you  wouldn't 
sit  down  and  elaborate  a  scheme  as  to  the  best 
method  of  resuscitating  him." 

"  But  if  you  saw  ten  thousand  freezing?  " 

"  That's  just  it.  There  have  been  times  when 
the  only  thing  that  saved  me  from  despair  was 
the  remembrance  that  I  was  only  one  man  and 
was  responsible  for  only  one  man's  work." 

He  fell  into  silence,  and  Mrs.  Brand  studied 
him  for  a  while.  At  last  she  said,  "  What  a  funny 
Bruin!" 

"  That's  so !  "  he  exclaimed,  heartily.  "  To  talk 
like  this  when  my  head  fairly  seethes  with  wild 


160  MRS.    BRAND 

schemes.  I  tell  you  it's  a  providence  that  so  few 
people  can  carry  out  their  schemes  in  this  world, 
or  it  wouldn't  be  habitable  very  long.  Good  peo- 
ple, like  myself,  I  mean." 

They  both  laughed,  but  Dr.  Challoner  went  on 
earnestly  enough,  "  There  never  was  a  cause  yet 
worth  struggling  for  that  wasn't  purified  and 
developed  by  every  rebuff  it  got.  As  a  power  for 
good,  for  instance,  I  should  think  that  persecutions 
must  compare  very  favorably  with  prayer-meet- 
ings. It's  all  part  of  the  great  plan.  We  don't 
always  happen  to  see  it  that  way.  I  didn't  when  I 
called  on  Deacon  Davis  to  offer  him  my  compli- 
ments on  the  state  of  his  tenements  in  Elysium 
Row." 

Whatever  his  intentions  might  be  Mr.  Brand 
had  apparently  no  confidences  to  share  with  any- 
one regarding  them.  But  one  thing  became  very 
clear  to  those  about  him.  And  that  was  the 
ascending  scale  of  his  respect  for  Dr.  Challoner. 

"  I've  talked  with  scores  of  people  about  this 
thing,"  he  observed  to  Mr.  Overholt,  "  lawyers, 
college  professors,  political  economists,  and  eco- 
nomical politicians,  laboring  men,  mechanics, 


MRS.    BRAND  161 

factory  girls  and  what  not,  and  I  tell  you  among 
the  whole  lot  of  them  there  isn't  as  much  common 
sense  as  Challoner  has  in  his  little  finger.  Dead 
loads  of  theory,  but  not  one  of  them  ready  to  get 
down  and  hustle  in  the  dirt." 

Certainly,  in  the  opinion  of  some  people  Mr. 
Brand  was  choosing  extraordinary  means  to  arrive 
at  the  knowledge  he  was  in  quest  of.  By  invita- 
tion a  dozen  or  more  of  his  business  and  profes- 
sional acquaintances  gathered  at  his  home  one 
morning,  while  he  laid  before  them  the  conditions 
of  life  within  a  radius  of  half  a  mile  having  Moon 
Street  as  its  center.  Then  he  asked  them  as  a 
personal  favor  to  himself  to  visit  the  district  speci- 
fied under  the  escort  of  Dr.  Challoner,  and  at  the 
end  of  a  week  to  report  to  him  what  recommenda- 
tions, if  any,  they  felt  justified  in  making  with  a 
view  to  its  betterment.  Of  the  work  of  com- 
mittees in  general  he  was  as  sceptical  as  Dr.  Chal- 
loner himself,  but  he  foresaw  a  variety  of  results 
from  this  one,  and  he  was  not  disappointed. 

"  Moon  Street,"   said   Mr.   Boyington,   reflec- 
tively.    "  Seems  to  me  that's  about  where  my 


162  MRS.    BRAND 

wife's  property  must  be.  But  it's  all  in  the  hands 
of  her  agent,  and  I'm  not  responsible  for  it." 

Mr.  Brand  smiled  grimly.  In  the  course  of  his 
investigations  this  fact  had  come  to  his  knowledge. 
"  Well,  Boyington,  if  I  were  you  I  believe  I'd 
make  that  agent's  acquaintance." 

"  I'll  make  a  note  of  that,"  said  Mr.  Boyington, 
appreciatively.  He  was  always  making  notes  of 
things,  apparently  for  the  sake  of  consigning  other 
people's  demands  upon  him  to  a  decent  burial,  in 
black  and  white  oblivion.  But  Mr.  Brand  was  not 
without  hope  in  spite  of  the  note-book. 

After  setting  various  details  of  time  and  meet- 
ing-place with  Dr.  Challoner,  these  men,  some  of 
whom  were  the  busiest  in  the  city,  separated  into 
groups  of  twos  and  threes  to  seek  again  their 
accustomed  haunts  of  trade. 

"  Too  bad  about  Brand,"  said  one,  regretfully. 

"  I'd  have  sworn  by  that  man's  common  sense 
a  year  ago." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  Somebody's  got  to  take 
these  things  up,  and  if  they're  half  as  bad  as  he 
says  it's  a  pretty  serious  matter." 

"  That's  all  right  if  you  think  so.    But  I'm  not 


MRS.    BRAND  163 

going  to  waste  my  time  on  any  fool's  errand.  I 
never  saw  anybody  yet  that  went  into  that  kind  of 
thing  that  didn't  exaggerate  it  out  of  all  resem- 
blance to  the  real  conditions.  I  know  what  that 
section's  like,  and  I  tell  you  those  people  are 
attached  to  it.  They  don't  want  anything  better." 

"  More's  the  pity,  perhaps,"  said  his  companion, 
shortly. 

"  No,  I  don't  see  that.  Happiness  is,  after  all, 
merely  a  matter  of  adjustment  to  one's  environ- 
ment, and  I  know  lots  of  those  people  are  far 
more  comfortably  adjusted  to  theirs  than  we  are  to 
ours." 

"  But  don't  you  see " 

"  No,  I  must  confess  I  don't.  The  sun  shines 
on  the  just  and  the  unjust.  We're  born  and  we 
die,  and  that's  the  most  that  can  be  said  of  any 
of  us  whether  in  Moon  Street  or  out  of  it,  and  all 
they've  got  to  show,  and  all  I've  got  at  the  end 
of  it  is  six  feet  two  of  ground  that  nobody  else 
wants." 

This  was  the  deacon  who  had  suffered  at  Dr. 
Challoner's  hands. 

"  Give  him  a  chance,  Arthur.     Give  him  a 


164  MRS.    BRAND 

chance,"  Mr.  Brand  had  said,  when  his  nephew 
protested  against  their  inviting  him  to  confer  with 
them.  "  He's  just  the  kind  you've  got  to  learn  to 
use  in  this  world  if  you  want  to  do  anything  worth 
while."  , 

The  strain  to  which  Mr.  Brand  was  subjecting 
himself  began  to  tell  upon  him,  but  he  was  deaf 
to  all  remonstrance.  He  knew  that  his  life  was 
grudgingly  doled  out  day  by  day  to  him  by  the 
miserly  fingers  of  Fate,  and  all  his  remaining 
energy  was  concentrated  in  one  supreme  effort  to 
materialize  the  ideas  that  were  assuming  definite 
shape  in  his  mind. 

"  If  the  Lord  will  but  grant  me  time !  "  he 
exclaimed  one  morning,  his  mental  stress  being 
such  that  the  thought  unconsciously  escaped  into 
speech. 

"  Don't  you  think  He  can  carry  out  His  designs 
without  your  assistance*? "  inquired  his  wife 
unable,  to  her  own  instant  regret,  to  resist  this 
opportunity  for  a  little  fling.  Away  from  him,  in 
the  amphitheatre  of  her  own  mind,  it  was  easy  to 
enact  a  drama  in  which  she  was  swayed  by  sublime 
motives. 


MRS.    BRAND  165 

Fortunately  Mr.  Brand  was  too  much  absorbed 
in  his  own  reflections  to  be  conscious  of  his  wife's 
remark.  He  stared  at  her  vacantly,  his  mind 
revolving  in  an  insistent  whirl  the  details  of  the 
plan  that  absorbed  it.  He  saw  the  difficulties  in 
the  way  as  clearly  as  the  most  unsympathetic 
scoffer,  but  he  was  convinced  that  the  resultant 
evils  would  be  infinitely  less  than  the  existent  ones, 
and,  after  all,  he  realized  more  clearly  every  day 
that  his  inability  to  know  infallibly  what  was  best 
did  not  absolve  him  from  the  necessity  of  acting 
on  what  knowledge  he  possessed.  His  fortune 
had  come  to  him  through  legitimate  channels  of 
business  enterprise,  and  he  had  no  qualms  what- 
ever about  the  possession  of  it.  He  was  not  by 
nature  a  generous  man,  but  his  strong  religious 
convictions  had  developed  in  him  a  fine  apprecia- 
tion of  his  duty,  more  valuable  to  himself  and  the 
world  at  large  than  the  most  enthusiastic  impulse 
of  undisciplined  and  spasmodic  generosity.  A 
life-long  habit  of  submission  to  a  Will  superior  to 
his  own  had  had  its  marvelous  effects  upon  a  char- 
acter naturally  and  by  circumstances  ordained  to 
be  self-assertive  and  self-sufficient.  That  day, 


166  MRS.    BRAND 

when  he  had  followed  Dr.  Challoner  from  one 
wretched  tenement  to  another,  there  had  come  to 
him  with  tremendous  urgency  the  revelation  that 
what  these  people  needed  desperately  beyond  the 
alleviation  of  their  immediate  misery  was  some- 
thing which  his  money  could  not  get  for  them. 
The  farther  he  penetrated  into  the  rotten  core  of 
all  this  wretchedness  the  more  rapidly  his  wealth 
depreciated  in  value  in  his  own  estimation.  What- 
ever good  he  might  be  the  means  of  accomplishing 
would  after  all  be  but  secondary  to  that  already 
compassed  by  a  lonely  worker,  whom  he  had 
sometimes  impatiently  considered  a  "  crank." 
His  clear  perception  of  this  fact  did  credit  to  his 
sense  of  justice,  and  was  of  inestimable  value  in 
determining  his  ultimate  policy.  These  people 
thought  of  Dr.  Challoner  as  their  friend.  There 
could  be  no  doubt  of  that. 

"  Do  you  find  them  grateful  to  you  for  what 
you  have  done,  Arthur*?  "  he  asked  afterwards. 

"  Oh  no,  not  often.  In  that  as  in  other  respects 
they're  astonishingly  like  us,"  said  the  young  man, 
drily. 

Mr.  Brand  chuckled. 


MRS.    BRAND  167 

"  But  then,  why  should  they  be?  They  don't 
want  charity.  In  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hun- 
dred it's  forced  on  them  against  every  instinct  of 
self-respect  they've  got.  There's  the  soup-kitchen 
where  I  help  sometimes.  What  business  have  I  to 
offer  a  man  soup  when  he  wants  work*?  I  hate 
to  give  an  able-bodied  man  soup.  It's  an  insult 
to  his  manhood  and  mine." 

Mr.  Overholt,  who  happened  to  be  calling, 
smiled  slightly  at  the  doctor's  indignation.  It 
seemed  to  him  overdone.  For  himself  he  wished 
Moon  Street  at  the  bottom  of  the  deep,  salt  sea, 
for  he  was  heartily  sick  of  the  whole  thing,  and 
weary  of  affecting  an  interest  in  it  that  he  could 
not  feel. 

"  What  was  your  object  in  asking  your  friends 
to  wait  a  week  before  meeting  with  you  again?  " 
he  inquired  of  Mr.  Brand. 

"  I  had  a  good  many  reasons.  I  wanted  to  find 
out,  for  instance,  how  many  or  how  few  of  them 
would  have  any  interest  whatever  in  the  matter 
at  the  end  of  a  week." 

Perhaps  more  had  than  he  expected.  Yet  there 
were  only  five  men  at  the  second  meeting. 


168  MRS.    BRAND 

"  I  don't  know,  Brand,"  began  Mr.  Boyington, 
immediately,  "  whether  I've  got  any  time  to  spend 
talking  over  plans  with  you,  for  I've  got  my  hands 
full  with  my  own.    When  Challoner  got  through 
harrowing  our  feelings  that  day  I  went  home  and 
told  my  wife  what  her  property  was  like,  and  it 
made  her  just  sick.     She  inherited  it  from  her 
father,  you  know,  and  she's  always  had  such  an 
idea  about  being  independent  that  I  never  inter- 
fered about  it.    Well,  nothing  would  do  the  next 
day  but  she  must  go  around  with  me  herself,  and 
the  end  of  it  is  the  agent's  bounced,  and  she  says 
she's  going  to  be  her  own  agent  after  this.    What 
do  you  think  of  that  for  a  saintly,  little  woman  like 
my  wife?  "  he  asked,  looking  around  him  with 
irrepressible  pride.     "  By  gracious,  there  wasn't 
any  place  too  vile  for  her  to  poke  her  way  into." 
"  Tell  her  we're  proud  of  her,"  said  Mr.  Brand. 
"  If   everybody   had   her   spirit    and   grit    there 
wouldn't  be  such  awful  problems  for  the  few  to 
solve    for    the    many.       Don't    you    think    so, 
McGarvey?" 

"  I'm  not  sure  about  that,"  replied  McGarvey, 
carefully.    He  was  a  long,  lean  Scotchman,  quiet 


MRS.    BRAND  169 

and  cautious  —  a  man  apt  to  be  overlooked  before 
you  knew  him,  but  never  afterwards.  His  looks 
were  unimportant,  but  he  was  the  possessor  of  a 
sandy  beard  without  which,  according  to  certain 
frivolous  folk,  he  never  could  have  attained  his 
success  in  life.  In  moments  of  extreme  mental 
tension  every  human  being  has  some  refuge  to 
which  he  flees.  Some  seek  it  in  prayer;  some  find 
it  in  the  sympathy  of  a  friend.  McGarvey  found 
it  in  his  beard.  The  usage  of  years  had  divided 
it  into  two  meagre  red  lines,  the  sport  of  every 
passing  breeze,  but  it  seemed  indisputable,  never- 
theless, that  from  these  insignificant  extremities 
Mr.  McGarvey  derived  all  the  physical  and  moral 
courage  that  he  needed.  Confront  him  with  any 
unexpected  problem  —  he  was  mute  until  by 
winding  his  beard  around  his  fingers  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  harnessing  his  fingers  firmly  to  his  head. 
Then  he  felt  himself  in  touch  with  the  universe, 
and  able  to  grapple  with  the  gravest  problems  of 
human  experience  and  destiny. 

"  I  do  not  know  about  that,"  he  began  again, 
having  adjusted  himself  securely.  "  You  say,  sir," 
he  went  on,  turning  to  Mr.  Boyington,  "  that  your 


170  MRS.    BRAND 

wife  has  dismissed  this  agent  who  was  undoubtedly 
unworthy.  You  say  that  in  the  future  she  intends 
to  do  the  work  herself.  Possibly  it  may  be  better 
done."  Mr.  Boyington  looked  suddenly  fierce. 
"  But  I  doubt  it,"  continued  Mr.  McGarvey, 
firmly.  "  In  the  meantime  I  should  like  to  inquire 
what  is  to  become  of  the  agent.  If,  as  we  hear  it 
frequently  stated,  the  regeneration  of  society  is 
best  accomplished  by  the  direct,  personal  effort  of 
one  individual  for  another,  I  think  my  inquiry  is 
a  pertinent  one.  And  it  seems  after  all  but  a  direct 
application  of  the  spirit  of  your  remark  to  me," 
he  concluded,  looking  at  Mr.  Brand. 

"  But  the  fellow  was  a  regular,  dishonest  ras- 
cal," broke  in  Mr.  Boyington  excitedly.  "  If  he 
got  his  deserts  he'd  be  inside  the  State's  Prison." 

"  Precisely.  And  yet  that  is  exactly  the  individ- 
ual we  prate  about  its  being  our  desire  to  reclaim 
until  we  are  afraid  we  may  have  actually  to  come 
in  contact  with  him.  We  are  sincere  enough  in 
wanting  to  reform  him  if  we  can  only  do  it  by  a 
set  of  resolutions." 

Mr.   Boyington  looked  forlorn.     "Well,  by 


MRS.    BRAND  171 

* 

gracious,  what  is  a  man  to  do  when  he  wants  to  do 
something*?  " 

'  You  see,"  pursued  Mr.  McGarvey,  inexora- 
bly, "  you've  simply  turned  this  fellow  loose  now 
after  affording  him  the  encouragement  of  indiffer- 
ence all  these  years  to  operate  his  dishonesty  on 
some  unsuspecting  person,  who  is  perhaps  not  at 
all  as  well  able  to  stand  it  as  you  have  been." 

"  Well,  hang  it  all,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Boyington 
desperately,  with  a  distracted  expression  in  his 
round,  good-humored  face,  "  if  you  know  so  much 
about  it  perhaps  you'll  be  good  enough  to  let  a 
little  of  your  wisdom  loose.  What  do  you  think  I 
ought  to  have  done*?  " 

"  That  depends  altogether  on  the  character  of 
the  man,"  said  Mr.  McGarvey,  patiently.  "  If 
you  consider  him  a  hopeless  scoundrel  it  might  be 
your  duty  to  society  to  put  him  in  State's  Prison 
but " 

"  Did  you  ever  think,"  said  Dr.  Challoner 
eagerly,  "  how  few  hopeless  criminals  there  really 
are"?  "  Mr.  McGarvey  looked  at  him  with  calm 
approval.  "  Mr.  Boyington  would  perhaps  find 


172  MRS.    BRAND 

that  out,  I  was  thinking,"  he  remarked,  in  his 
slow,  temperate  way. 

"  Has  he  any  family?  "  inquired  Mr.  Brand. 
They  were  now  all  so  interested  in  this  individual 
case  that  they  had  quite  forgotten  having  assem- 
bled for  any  other  purpose  than  to  consider  it. 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so !  "  groaned  Mr.  Boying- 
ton.  "  A  dozen  children,  I  should  think  —  twins 
and  what  not  —  a  sick  wife,  and  an  old  mother 
or  something."  He  had  reached  the  point  where 
he  could  only  find  comfort  by  blackening  his  con- 
duct beyond  any  hope  of  extenuation. 

"  How  great  has  been  the  extent  of  his  dis- 
honesty, do  you  think*?  "  inquired  Mr.  McGarvey. 

"  Why,  you  see,  it  was  fixed  this  way.  My 
father-in-law  had  known  this  man's  family  since 
he  was  a  boy,  and  as  he  lived  right  in  that  quarter 
and  knew  all  about  it,  he  thought  he  couldn't  have 
a  better  agent.  So  he  appraised  the  yearly  rentals 
at  a  certain  figure.  From  that  he  deducted  what 
he  considered  a  fair  salary  for  the  man,  and  a  rea- 
sonable average  for  repairs.  The  sum  left  was 
what  he  received  from  the  agent,  who  was  then 


MRS.    BRAND  173 

at  liberty  to  realize  what  he  could  from  the 
property." 

"  There  it  is !  "  murmured  Dr.  Challoner. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  the  man  did  the  best  he 
could  with  a  bad  business,"  said  Mr.  Brand. 

"  That's  just  what  I'm  afraid  of  now,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Boyington,  dejectedly.  "  When  my 
wife  went  over  that  place  and  saw  the  condition 
of  things  she  was  just  wild,  and  she  gave  that  man 
his  walking-papers  instanter.  He  tried  to  explain, 
but  that  only  made  it  worse.  And  I  believe  he  was 
kind  of  stunned.  You  see,  she  couldn't  get  it  out 
of  her  head  that  he  was  to  blame  for  the  whole 
thing.  Tell  you  what  —  I'll  see  that  man  again 
this  very  day." 

Mr.  McGarvey,  who  had  wound  and  unwound 
himself  a  great  many  times  during  this  interview, 
now  made  a  final  disposition  of  his  beard  with  a 
sigh  of  relief,  and  the  conversation  drifted  into 
a  wider  discussion  of  the  needs  of  Moon  Street 
and  its  vicinity.  At  last  the  gathering  darkness 
of  the  early  December  evening  warned  them  that 
they  must  break  away  from  the  subject  that  had 
grown  so  interesting.  Mr.  McGarvey  took  Mr. 


174  MRS.    BRAND 

Boyington  in  tow,  and  Dr.  Challoner  smiled  as 
he  caught  a  few  words  of  the  advice  that  the 
Scotchman  was  pouring  out  with  impassioned 
eagerness. 

"  That  man's  pure  gold,"  said  Mr.  Brand  when 
they  were  all  gone,  and  he  and  the  doctor  were 
alone.  "  He  has  a  genius  for  details,  and  the 
kindest  heart  in  the  world." 

"  So  has  Mr.  Boyington,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  and  that's  about  all  they  have  in  com- 
mon. But  it's  a  strong  bond,  and  they'll  do  each 
other  good." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  and  then  Mr.  Brand 
began  to  talk  again,  but  with  difficulty,  for  the 
going  over  of  his  opportunities  and  his  aspirations 
to  another  man  was  not  an  easy  task.  "  It  has 
been  a  hard  day,  Arthur,  but  my  anxieties  are 
nearly  over.  I  hope  the  burden  I  have  put  upon 
you  will  not  be  too  heavy,  my  boy.  You  will  not 
be  bound  in  any  way  by  any  wishes  of  mine,  for 
the  longer  I  have  thought  about  it  the  more  deeply 
I  have  realized  that  this  thing  cannot  be  done 
in  a  hurry;  it  needs  years." 

An  hour  later  Mrs.   Brand  found  them  still 


MRS.    BRAND  175 

talking.  She  had  acquired  a  general  understand- 
ing that  her  husband  meant  to  devote  the  bulk  of 
his  fortune  to  what  might  be  vaguely  termed  phil- 
anthropical  purposes,  but  when  he  had  endeav- 
ored to  discuss  the  matter  with  her  she  had  utterly 
refused  to  enter  into  detail  with  him,  which  was 
really  a  greater  relief  to  him  than  he  would  have 
cared  to  admit.  At  least  he  had  managed  to 
leave  with  her  an  impression  of  adequate  pro- 
vision for  herself,  to  which  she  was  not  at  all 
indifferent,  though  she  felt  an  aversion  to  any 
exhaustive  discussion  of  a  subject  that  touched 
her  with  a  certain  sense  of  humiliation.  There 
were  times  when  she  was  acutely  thankful  that 
her  husband  could  not  know  how  little  of  herself 
she  had  put  into  the  partnership  that  appeared  to 
be  on  the  point  of  dissolution.  Just  now  she  con- 
sciously felt  herself  to  be  a  puzzle.  Her  days 
went  by  in  a  series  of  jerks,  quite  unlike  the  well- 
bred  monotony  of  former  times.  But  there  were 
no  more  distracting  interviews  with  Mr.  Over- 
holt.  Perhaps  that  contributed  to  the  restless 
feeling  that  harassed  her,  and  which  urged  her 
perilously  near  the  danger  line  sometimes,  when 


176  MRS.    BRAND 

it  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  resist  the  fascination 
of  experimenting  with  the  pastor  in  public. 

One  day  Mrs.  Crumpet,  who  had  recently  lost 
her  husband,  came  in  to  call  upon  Mr.  Brand.  It 
had  been  a  dreary  day,  and  the  old  man  was 
glad  of  any  visitor.  Things  went  along  smoothly 
enough  in  the  conversational  rut  until  Mr.  Over- 
holt  and  Chrys  were  announced.  Then  Mrs. 
Crumpet  showed  signs  of  agitation.  She  greeted 
the  minister  impressively,  and  advanced  upon 
Chrys,  whom  she  enclosed  in  an  embrace  that  was 
like  an  applied  benediction.  "  Don't,"  said  the 
child,  gravely,  upon  emerging,  "  you  choke  my 
stomach." 

An  expression  of  pain  appeared  upon  Mrs. 
Crumpet' s  countenance.  "  Dear  little  child !  " 
she  exclaimed  in  large  tones;  "so  unaccustomed 
to  a  mother's  tenderness." 

Mrs.  Brand's  lip  twitched  dangerously.  But 
her  husband  went  gravely  on  with  the  interrupted 
conversation,  to  the  relief  of  herself  and  Mr. 
Overholt,  who  for  once  felt  unequal  to  looking  at 
her. 

When  Mrs.  Crumpet  had  gone,  and  an  oppor- 


MRS.    BRAND  177 

tunitv  occurred  she  said  to  him,  "  I  heard  some- 
thing about  you  the  other  day." 

"  I  should  think  that  not  impossible,"  he  re- 
plied, with  a  cool  assumption  of  indifference  that 
she  found  stimulating. 

She  leaned  her  head  back  against  her  chair, 
and  laughed  softly. 

"  I  hope  this  was." 

Mr.  Overholt  said  nothing.  He  took  refuge 
in  the  ends  of  his  moustache  instead. 

"  It  was  such  a  new  idea  to  me.  I  don't  know 
how  it  would  do,  I'm  sure."  Mrs.  Brand  sur- 
veyed him  with  reflective  innocence,  but  her  eyes 
were  dancing  wickedly.  "  Mr.  Crumpet  has  been 
dead  so  few  months  that  it  was  really  a  shock 
to  me." 

"  What  was*?  "  inquired  Mr.  Brand,  with  sud- 
den interest. 

Mrs.  Brand  beamed  upon  him  gratefully. 

"Oh,  haven't  I  told  you?  Only  that  Mrs. 
Crumpet  say  that  of  course  Mr.  Overholt's  atten- 
tions to  her  can  be  only  the  delicate  expression 
of  his  ultimate  hopes  with  regard  to  her,  and  that 


178  MRS.    BRAND 

she  is  prepared  to  consider  the  matter  after  a 
due  lapse  of  time." 

"  Well !  well !  "  laughed  Mr.  Brand.  "  That's 
pretty  good.  Reminds  me  of  a  story  Bell  told 
me  once.  He  and  his  wife  had  an  eye  on  a  desira- 
ble house  for  a  long  time.  The  man  who  lived 
there  was  very  ill,  and  when  he  died  Bell  thought 
there  was  not  a  minute  to  lose.  In  the  evening 
after  the  funeral  he  went  in  to  see  the  widow,  and 
apologized  a  great  deal  for  intruding,  but  said 
he  was  anxious  to  make  inquiries  about  the  house. 
'  Oh,  you're  too  late,'  said  the  widow  between 
her  sobs,  '  we  rented  it  this  afternoon  at  the 
grave.'  It  seems  to  me  Mrs.  Crumpet  is  equally 
forehanded." 

Mr.  Overholt's  features  gave  way  to  a  difficult 
smile,  but  the  situation  was  without  humor  for 
him.  The  claws  that  he  had  elected  to  consider 
sheathed  for  him  were  still  sharp  to  scratch  the 
delicate  epidermis  of  his  pride  in  a  most  vulnera- 
ble part. 

"  One  does  not  expect  very  much  of  Mrs. 
Crumpet,"  he  said,  frostily.  "  But  I  should  not 


MRS.    BRAND  179 

have  looked  for  such  news  through  the  medium  of 
Mrs.  Brand." 

"  Why?  Didn't  you  know  how  fond  I  am  of 
gossip'?  I  fairly  revel  in  it.  Besides,  this  would 
tempt  the  taste  of  an  epicure.  I  simply  scratched 
for  details." 

Mr.  Brand,  looking  at  them,  had  thoughts  of 
his  own  that  he  did  not  utter.  But  he  tasted  with 
renewed  appreciation  the  wisdom  of  his  policy 
with  regard  to  his  wife.  'Twas  a  skittish  thing, 
a  woman.  He  had  done  well  to  make  things  sure. 
It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  at  no  time  had 
he  felt  any  doubts  of  the  man,  who  was  far  from 
being  a  fool  and  keen  enough  to  be  relied  upon 
to  appreciate  an  opportunity.  It  is  one  thing  to 
cherish  one's  own  sentiments,  and  quite  another 
thing  to  appreciate  them  in  other  people.  This 
old  money-maker,  after  all  these  years,  cherished 
still  in  the  core  of  him  as  his  most  sacred  posses- 
sion misty  memories  of  things  that  time  had 
turned  to  dust.  It  would  have  seemed  to  him  a 
madness  in  anybody  else  to  do  likewise,  to  the 
detriment  perhaps  of  present  interests.  He  had 
never  made  his  will  before,  partly  from  the  indif- 


180  MRS.    BRAND 

ference  of  a  man  who  feels  there  is  really  no  need 
of  hurry,  and  partly  from  a  superstitious  fancy 
that  it  would  be  equivalent  to  signing  his  own 
death-warrant.  And  now  that  it  was  really  done, 
this  underlying  fear  affected  him  in  his  weakened 
condition  more  dangerously  than  he  would  have 
cared  to  own. 

Chrys  had  escaped  to  more  congenial  quarters, 
and  Mrs.  Brand  and  Mr.  Overholt  went  on  talk- 
ing. How  tired  he  felt  all  at  once !  With  a  sigh  of 
relief  he  leaned  back  in  the  encircling  depths  of 
his  chair,  glad  to  be  free  from  any  further  strain 
of  attention.  For  a  while  their  voices  hummed 
dimly  in  his  ears,  and  then  he  floated  out  upon 
the  broad  and  placid  river  of  sleep.  But  after 
a  time  the  waves  grew  troubled.  He  thought  he 
heard  the  muffled  roar  of  distant  thunder.  What 
was  it"?  Where  was  he"?  Ah!  it  was  Cecily  and 
Mr.  Overholt.  They  were  talking,  to  be  sure, 
about  Mrs.  Crumpet?  No!  What  was  the  min- 
ister saying  in  those  tones'?  His  wife  was  stand- 
ing, tall  and  stately,  with  eyes  flashing  like  the 
diamonds  on  her  slender  fingers.  It  was  the  last 
time  her  husband  ever  looked  at  her. 


MRS.    BRAND  181 

"  How  dare  you !  "  For  a  moment  her  pas- 
sionate breath  choked  her  utterance.  Then  she 
went  on,  her  anger  battling  with  the  need  of  cau- 
tion, but  not  a  word  was  lost  to  the  listener.  At 
last  she  threw  open  the  door  behind  her  and  went 
out. 

Mr.  Overholt  sprang  up  to  follow  her,  and  Mr. 
Brand  was  left  alone.  He  struggled  to  his  feet, 
but  they  wavered  beneath  him,  and  he  fell  help- 
lessly back  in  his  chair.  Then  he  tried  to  call 
aloud,  but  his  voice  broke  in  an  unintelligible 
groan.  His  soul  cried  out  in  agony  for  help,  but 
none  came.  He  heard  Chrys  patter  through  the 
hall,  saying  in  his  high,  sweet  voice,  "  But  can't  I 
say  good-bye  to  Aunt  Cecily?  "  Then  presently 
the  clang  of  the  outer  door,  and  all  was  still. 

After  all,  until  now,  life  had  dealt  out  lenient 
lessons  to  the  old  man.  This  one,  coming  late, 
was  too  hard. 


CHAPTER  X 

ANOTHER  hot  summer  had  scorched  its  way  across 
the  Western  prairies  to  the  edge  of  the  great  lake, 
leaving  behind  it  a  trail  of  golden  days,  the  after- 
glow of  its  fierce  illumination.  Children  had  sick- 
ened and  died  in  the  city's  tenements  for  lack  of 
fitting  food  and  fresh  air,  and  men  and  women 
had  cursed  the  God  who  had  forced  upon  them 
life  without  the  chance  to  sustain  it. 

But  over  the  face  of  Moon  Street  there  was 
stealing  a  change  —  imperceptible  perhaps  to 
indifferent  eyes,  but  clear  enough  to  those  who 
were  concerned  in  it.  John  Brand  had  been  dead 
nine  months,  but  he  had  insured  his  memory  in  the 
hearts  of  its  wretched  inhabitants  at  compound 
interest.  Each  year  would  double  and  treble  their 
obligation  to  him,  and  in  their  hitherto  man- 
forsaken,  God-bereft  lives,  a  few  of  them  began 
to  realize  something  of  this  new  fact.  Half  way 
down  Moon  Street,  in  the  heart  of  its  filth  and 

182 


MRS.    BRAND  183 

degradation,  there  stood  a  square,  old-fashioned 
house  which  had  gone  through  every  phase  of 
humiliation.  It  caused  a  sensation  even  in  Moon 
Street,  where  sensations  were  not  rare,  when  one 
day  an  army  of  workmen  took  possession  of  this 
place  and  began  an  astonishing  process  of  remodel- 
ing and  renovation.  Nobody  ever  remodeled  any- 
thing in  Moon  Street;  they  simply  nailed  on 
or  up  or  down  another  board.  And  in  the  matter 
of  fresh  paint  there  was  nothing  newer  than  a 
tradition.  Finally  it  was  discovered  that  the 
house  was  being  made  ready  for  Dr.  Challoner. 

"  An'  phwat  for  would  ye  be  givin'  to  live  there, 
doctor"?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Flynn,  blankly,  feeling 
herself  for  once  unequal  to  any  strain  upon  her 
natural  gift  as  an  orator. 

"  Why,  for  the  sake  of  being  near  my  friends," 
replied  Dr.  Challoner,  good-naturedly. 

"  Tis  onraisonable  av  ye,"  she  said,  curtly, 
turning  on  her  heel  on  a  mission  of  dissemination 
of  knowledge  among  the  ignorant,  and  in  dire 
anxiety  lest  some  hated  rival  should  outstrip  her. 
But  presently  she  came  panting  back  again. 

"  Shure  ye'll  be  for  bringin'  a  woife  wid  ye1?  " 


184  MRS.    BRAND 

Dr.  Challoner  laughed.  "  Well,  no,  not  just 
yet,  Mrs.  Flynn." 

That  was  several  months  ago.  The  house  was 
finished  now,  and  Moon  Street  had  inspected  it 
and,  after  revelling  in  the  criticism  of  misunder- 
stood details,  had  yet  pronounced  it  good.  But 
what  did  it  all  mean,  anyway"?  That  was  exactly 
the  question  which  had  baffled  the  understanding 
of  the  owner,  from  whom  Dr.  Challoner  had 
finally  succeeded  in  leasing  the  house  for  three 
years. 

"You  ain't  goin'  to  turn  it  into  a  hospital?  " 
he  asked,  suspiciously.  "  No,  no,  Bill,"  inter- 
rupted the  man  with  him.  "  He  don't  want  to 
make  no  money  out  of  it.  I've  heard  say  there 
was  folks  like  that,"  he  added  by  way  of  explana- 
tion, which,  however,  created  still  greater  ferment 
in  the  liquor-dealing  owner's  mind,  for  he  could 
not  comprehend  a  sane  man's  indulging  in  so 
unremunerative  a  scheme  of  existence. 

But  after  Dr.  Challoner  was  duly  installed  in 
the  new  abode,  his  actions  were  even  less  open  to 
interpretation  than  before. 

"  He    has    friends    stayin'    wid    him    now," 


MRS.    BRAND  185 

announced  Mrs.  Flynn,  excitedly.  "  A  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  McGarvey,  if  ye  plaze,  and  a  rale  toidy  body 
she  is,  shure,  and  came  around  yisterday  to  invite 
me  to  dhrink  tay  wid  herself." 

It  had  so  happened  that  Mr.  Brand's  appeal  to 
Mr.  McGarvey  to  become  a  trustee  of  that  part  of 
his  estate  which  was  to  be  used  in  behalf  of  Moon 
Street  had  come  at  a  singularly  propitious  time. 
Mr.  McGarvey  had  begun  his  commercial  life  as 
an  engraver,  and  as  the  years  went  by  his  business 
increased  so  steadily  that  at  one  time  it  absorbed 
his  energies  to  the  exclusion  of  all  outside  inter- 
ests. But  for  some  years  past  an  insidious  change 
had  been  creeping  over  the  face  of  his  affairs.  New 
inventions,  processes  unheard  of  one  day  and  full- 
fledged  for  active  competition  the  next,  were  head- 
ing a  silent  revolution  in  the  old-fashioned  arts 
of  the  engraver,  and  Mr.  McGarvey,  cautious  and 
conservative,  awoke  to  a  tardy  perception  of  the 
fact  that  his  business  was  slipping  away  from  him. 
He  was  a  man  of  considerable  means,  and  as  his 
business  required  but  little  capital  he  had  been 
free  to  invest  his  profits  outside  of  it,  so  that  there 
were  no  financial  anxieties  confronting  him.  But 


186  MRS.    BRAND 

his  industrious  soul  was  galled  at  the  prospect  of 
inactivity.  Just  then  it  was  that  Mr.  Brand 
stepped  into  his  narrowing  life  with  a  new  interest. 
He  seized  upon  it  eagerly,  not  realizing  at  first  by 
any  means  that  in  seeking  the  solution  of  other 
people's  problems,  which  they  had  found  too  hard, 
he  was  to  gain  the  answer  to  his  own.  But  in 
a  few  short  months  he  had  shaken  himself  free 
from  the  remaining  fetters  of  his  business,  and  was 
prepared  to  devote  himself  body  and  soul  to  the 
interests  of  Moon  Street.  For  all  his  queer,  slow 
ways,  Dr.  Challoner  found  him  infinitely  easier 
to  manage  than  Mr.  Boyington,  whose  restless 
spirit  acted  rather  irritatingly  at  times  upon  the 
temper  of  his  colleagues.  But  as  Mr.  Brand  had 
foreseen,  Mr.  McGarvey  was  invaluable  in  the 
manipulation  of  Mr.  Boyington,  who  felt  for 
the  Scotchman  an  awe  that  he  had  never  known 
for  any  other  mortal. 

When  the  improvements  in  Brand  House  were 
completed,  and  Dr.  Challoner  was  about  to  install 
himself  in  it,  Mrs.  McGarvey  perceived  a  can- 
tankerousness  in  her  husband  which  time  had 
taught  her  to  consider  portentous. 


MRS.    BRAND  187 

"  Either  Sandy  McGarvey  is  going  to  be  sick 
or  he  has  got  a  scheme,"  she  said  to  herself,  and 
set  about  discovering  which  it  was.  It  did  not 
take  her  long. 

"  What  is  it  you're  wanting,  Sandy  McGar- 
vey ?  "  she  asked  him  some  days  later.  "  You're 
better  to  tell  me  right  away,  because  I  know," 
she  added,  suggestively. 

Mr.  McGarvey  looked  at  her  and  wisely  con- 
cluded that  the  time  was  ripe  to  make  her 
acquainted  with  his  heart's  desire. 

"  Could  you  do  it,  Beth?" 

"  Was  there  ever  anything  you  wanted  that  I 
couldn't  do,  Sandy  McGarvey  *?  " 

And  so  it  was  settled.  "  For  the  only  way 
really  to  know  anything  about  it  is  to  jump  right 
into  it  as  Dr.  Challoner  has  done,"  said  Mr. 
McGarvey.  So  they  were  to  go  and  stay  a  while 
with  him  without  exhausting  their  energy  in 
indefinite  plans  for  a  future  that  might  be  relied 
upon  to  define  itself  clearly  enough  when  the 
time  came.  Mrs.  McGarvey  was  a  good,  motherly 
woman  whose  heart  still  ached  for  her  children, 
who  had  been  laid  away  one  after  another  out  of 


188  MRS.    BRAND 

her  sight,  and  her  imagination  warmed  to  the  idea 
of  spending  its  abundant  tenderness  upon  some  of 
the  little  ones  who  came  unwanted  and  unwel- 
comed  into  the  teeming  tenements. 

Dr.  Challoner  and  Mrs.  McGarvey  were  friends 
at  first  sight.  It  was  perhaps  her  ardent  liking  for 
"  the  lad  "  that  influenced  her  to  so  easy  a  deci- 
sion in  regard  to  Moon  Street.  And  as  time  went 
on  he  felt  himself  under  endless  obligation  to  her 
for  the  exercise  of  her  administrative  qualities  on 
his  behalf.  She  untied  many  a  knot  that  he  would 
have  found  puzzling,  and  assumed  promptly  the 
solution  of  the  unusual  domestic  problems  which 
such  a  venture  entailed.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
life  he  began  to  cherish  vague  dreams  of  an  ideal 
home,  and  to  be  stirred  by  thoughts  which  his 
familiarity  with  his  uncle's  domestic  life  had 
never  suggested  to  him. 

The  utmost  simplicity  of  style  and  purpose 
characterized  the  plans  of  the  trustees  at  present, 
for  under  the  terms  of  Mr.  Brand's  will  there  was 
to  be  no  attempt  at  a  final  disposition  of  the  fund 
that  he  had  left  at  their  disposal  until  three  years 
after  his  death,  in  order,  as  Mr.  Boyington  said 


MRS.    BRAND  189 

with  a  groan,  that  their  ideas  might  become  "  clar- 
ified and  classified."  Dr.  Challoner  found  him- 
self at  last  free  to  sever  his  intermittent  connec- 
tion with  his  feeble  practice  in  Glenedge,  and  to 
devote  himself  unreservedly  to  the  work  which 
had  lain  upon  his  conscience  so  long. 

"  The  lad's  got  something  on  his  mind,  I'll  be 
bound,"  said  Mrs.  McGarvey  to  herself  one 
evening,  as  Dr.  Challoner  came  into  their  sitting- 
room  and  threw  himself  into  a  chair  with  a  sigh. 
She  watched  him  furtively  for  a  long  time. 

"  How's  Mary  Gard?  "  she  asked,  at  last. 

"  Oh,  she's  all  right,"  he  replied,  indifferently. 
"  Those  Healy  children  have  got  scarlet  fever, 
though." 

"  Now,  that's  too  bad,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mc- 
Garvey, mournfully.  "  That  poor,  little  woman 
seems  to  be  plunged  from  one  thing  into  another 
all  the  time." 

Dr.  Challoner  said  nothing  further,  and  Mrs. 
McGarvey  sewed  on  in  silence  on  the  little  dress 
she  was  making.  But  she  still  had  a  question  in 
reserve. 

"  Has  Mrs.  Brand  arrived*?  "  she  inquired  sud- 


190  MRS.    BRAND 

denly  with  an  air  which  she  was  at  liberty  to 
consider  innocent.  Dr.  Challoner  rose  and  shook 
himself  preparatory  to  going  out  again. 

"  Yes !  —  yes !    She  got  home  on  Monday." 

"  Is  she  looking  well?  "  Mrs.  McGarvey  had 
no  interest  whatever  in  Mrs.  Brand's  appearance, 
but  it  was  necessary  to  furnish  some  decent 
drapery  for  her  curiosity  as  to  whether  Dr.  Chal- 
loner had  seen  her  yet. 

"  Yes,  she  is  looking  very  well  —  very  well, 
indeed,  I  should  say.  I  am  going  out  to  see  her 
now." 

As  he  rang  the  door-bell  that  evening  at  Mrs. 
Brand's,  Mr.  Overholt  came  out.  There  was  the 
swift  interchange  of  a  glance  that  would  hardly 
have  borne  an  affable  interpretation,  followed  by 
brief,  conventional  greetings,  and  the  two  men 
passed  on. 

"  There  will  come  a  time,  my  good  Medicus," 
thought  Mr.  Overholt,  with  a  prolonged  emphasis 
on  the  final  syllable  that  seemed  to  afford  him 
relief,  "  when  you  won't  march  in  there  with  the 
assurance  which  you  seem  to  think  your  birth- 
right." 


MRS.    BRAND  191 

Dr.  Challoner  found  Mrs.  Brand  in  the  old, 
familiar  sitting-room  in  which  he  had  not  been  for 
so  many  months  —  not  since  her  sudden  depar- 
ture for  Europe  with  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Bradbury 
immediately  after  her  husband's  death.  She  was 
sitting  before  the  fire,  for  the  October  evenings 
were  chill,  in  a  little,  low  chair,  with  some  pretty 
work  idling  in  her  hands.  She  had  always  affected 
to  despise  a  needle,  but  after  all  it  was  an  admir- 
able weapon  for  a  woman. 

She  rose  impulsively  to  meet  him,  holding  out 
both  her  hands  in  greeting.  Had  he  been  dis- 
posed to  criticism,  it  might  have  occurred  to  him 
that  her  effusiveness  was  to  cover  some  undertow 
of  feeling,  but  criticism  implies  a  place  on  the 
grand  stand,  and  he  was  in  the  ring  himself  just 
now.  After  the  first  rapid  interchange  of  ques- 
tion and  reply  a  silence  fell  between  them,  which 
each  one  waited  for  the  other  to  break. 

"  Tell  me  about  your  house,"  said  Mrs.  Brand, 
as  if  suddenly  remembering  Moon  Street. 

"  There  really  isn't  much  to  tell.  You  must 
come  and  see  it.  Would  you*?  "  He  looked  at 
her  curiously. 


192  MRS.    BRAND 

"  Would  I?  Why,  of  course  I  would.  Wasn't 
I  always  interested  in  your  work?  "  she  said,  with 
an  emphasis  which  did  not  escape  him. 

"  You  always  seemed  to  be." 

Mrs.  Brand  dropped  her  work,  and  drew  her 
chair  nearer  his. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Bruin?  What 
have  I  done  to  have  my  good,  little  deeds  dis- 
cussed and  dismissed  in  this  cavalier  fashion?  " 
She  laid  her  hand  insistently  on  his  arm.  "  Some- 
thing's happened  to  you.  You  don't  even  look  as 
you  used  to.  But  what  have  I  done?  " 

He  gazed  steadily  at  the  fire  for  a  moment,  and 
said  nothing.  Then  he  faced  her  deliberately,  and 
she  felt  an  indefinable  pang  at  his  expression. 
How  often  she  had  laughed  and  dubbed  him 
"  shy,"  with  a  dozen  careless  implications  in  the 
term.  But  a  shy  person  is  hardly  ever  a  coward, 
and,  without  knowing  why,  she  quailed  before  the 
purpose  in  his  face. 

"  What  have  you  done?  "  he  repeated,  with 
accent  at  which  she  instinctively  bridled.  Then 
he  paused,  but  he  held  her  with  his  look.  "  It's 


MRS.    BRAND  193 

no  business  of  mine.  And  yet  for  nine  months  it 
has  never  been  out  of  my  head." 

"  What  do  you  mean1?  "  she  demanded,  sharply. 
"  Certainly,  if  there  is  any  other  aggrieved  party 
to  this  affair  I  might  as  well  know  it.  But  I  fail 
to  see  whom  it  can  be.  It  would  seem  that  I  have 
sufficient  grounds  for  supposing  that  every  har- 
rowing expedient  had  been  exhausted  in  disposing 
of  me.  I  think  that  expresses  it  mildly." 

"I  do  not  think  you  can  feel  more  bitterly 
about  it  than  I  do,"  said  Dr.  Challoner,  "  but  I 
know  that  Uncle  Brand  acted  only  for  what  he 
believed  then  to  be  your  best  interests." 

Mrs.  Brand  made  a  gesture  of  contempt. 
"  Why  do  you  say  '  then  *  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Do 
you  think  he  has  changed  his  mind  since"?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  be  good  enough  to 
explain." 

"  I  mean  to." 

He  rose,  pushing  his  chair  back  impatiently, 
and  walked  two  or  three  times  up  and  down  the 
room,  his  hands  behind  his  back.  As  Mrs.  Brand 
watched  him  there  came  to  her  a  sharper  realiza- 


194  MRS.    BRAND 

tion  of  the  change  in  him  than  she  had  yet  experi- 
enced. He  was  older  —  not  with  the  age  that 
comes  with  blight,  but  with  that  of  ripened  youth 
and  vigor.  In  these  few,  short  months  there  had 
come  to  him  some  potent  revelation  of  himself  of 
which  she  was  aware  in  the  altered  bearing 
towards  herself  which  she  felt  in  him.  She  per- 
ceived this  change  with  a  curious  mingling  of 
resentment  and  respect.  But  she  had  no  time  for 
further  speculation,  for  he  sat  down  again,  facing 
her,  and  began  to  speak  with  a  directness  for 
which  no  forewarning  could  have  adequately  fore- 
armed her. 

"  I  could  not  beat  about  the  bush  in  any  matter, 
much  less  in  this.  When  Uncle  John  made  his 
will  I  knew  just  as  much  about  it  as  you  did.  I 
knew  nothing  whatever  about  his  plans  with  ref- 
erence to  yourself.  But  the  night  of  his  death, 
when  I  came  in  here  and  found  him  alone  in  that 
terrible  condition,  he  summoned  all  the  strength 
and  the  will  power  he  could  force  to  his  aid  to  tell 
me  that  he  had  made  a  terrible  mistake.  He  clung 
to  me  in  agony  —  I  can  never  forget  it  —  and 
from  his  broken  words  I  gathered  some  idea  of 


MRS.    BRAND  195 

what  he  had  heard."  Dr.  Challoner  paused  a 
moment.  It  was  harder  than  he  had  even  sup- 
posed. Mrs.  Brand  sat  quite  still,  except  for  her 
hands,  which  he  saw  trembling  against  her  black 
dress.  He  wished  that  he  had  not  noticed  them. 

"  He  had  overheard  some  conversation  between 

yourself  and  —  Mr.  Overholt, "  the  name 

passed  his  lips  as  if  it  burned  them  —  "  doubtless 
you  remember  it.  I  could  not  understand  what 
he  meant  then,  but  of  course  I  did  when  I  heard 
the  will.  Had  he  lived,  his  first  act  would  have 
been  to  change  it." 

Mrs.  Brand  sat  leaning  slightly  forward,  as  she 
had  been  when  he  began  to  speak,  and  the  poise, 
so  light  and  alert,  seemed  as  if  it  were  caught  and 
held  in  the  meshes  of  a  fate  against  which  it 
would  be  useless  to  struggle.  Her  eyes  had  lifted 
their  look  to  a  picture  above  the  doctor's  head. 
Why,  yes,  they  had  bought  that  picture  in 
Munich,  she  and  her  husband,  two  or  three  years 
after  their  marriage.  She  had  admired  it  greatly, 
but  had  hesitated  to  make  it  part  of  her  fixed 
environment.  Yet  the  fascination  of  it  had 
drawn  her  to  the  artist's  studio  again  and  again, 


196  MRS.    BRAND 

and  he  had  at  last  parted  with  it,  though  seem- 
ingly against  his  wish.  "  You  are  beautiful  and 
blessed,  madame,"  he  had  said,  in  his  strange  way. 
"  Perhaps  you  will  some  day  understand  my  pic- 
ture, perhaps  never.  I  do  not  know  which  is 
best." 

To-night  she  understood.  She  looked  only  at 
the  picture,  and  Dr.  Challoner,  impatiently  wait- 
ing for  some  word,  grew  bitter  as  he  watched  her. 

Suddenly  her  face  was  wet.  She  put  up  her 
hand  to  her  eyes  in  bewilderment.  A  sob  rose 
in  her  throat. 

An  instant  remorse  seized  Dr.  Challoner.  He 
had  counted  on  anger,  affronted  dignity  rising 
imperiously  to  defend  itself.  With  that  he  was 
ready  to  grapple,  but  before  this  silent  misery  he 
was  weak.  "  Cecily,  what  is  it*?  What  can  I 
do?  I  had  to  tell  you  these  things." 

"  I  know,"  she  whispered.  "  But  you  —  you 
have  been  cruel  —  you  have  thought  cruel  things 
of  me." 

"  For  God's  sake,  what  am  I  to  think?  "  he 
asked,  wildly. 

The  tears  came  again,  but  she  pressed  them 


MRS.    BRAND  197 

back.  She  had  no  time  for  that  now.  An  extreme 
urgency  was  upon  her  to  tell  him  everything. 
There  was  much  that  he  already  knew,  but  she 
began  far  back  in  her  solitary  childhood,  and  the 
details  with  which  he  was  already  familiar  took  on 
a  tragic  portent  to  him  now.  He  shrank  from  her 
love  story,  but  she  went  through  it  unflinchingly, 
sparing  neither  herself  nor  her  lover.  "  Since  then 
I  have  often  felt  that  if  I  had  been  less  absorbed 
in  it  than  I  was,  of  course  I  should  have  seen  that 
my  intensity  galled  him  —  that  he  was  weary  of 
it,"  she  said,  simply.  She  dealt  with  her  marriage 
with  the  same  ruthless  candor.  "  Certainly  I 
meant  to  tell  Mr.  Brand  of  my  broken  engage- 
ment, but  when  I  began  once  he  laughed,  and 
said  boys  and  girls  were  often  sentimental,  and 
that  a  woman  who  was  going  to  be  his  wife 
needn't  dwell  on  memories  of  that  sort.  I  really 
don't  think  he  would  have  cared  at  all  then.  He 
would  have  taken  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  I 
might  have  fancied  some  one  else  until  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  marrying  him." 

At   another   time   Dr.   Challoner  might  have 


198  MRS.    BRAND 

smiled  at  the  pathetic  irony  of  her  remark.  It 
seemed  too  pitifully  true  for  that  now. 

"  That  is  all,"  she  said,  at  last.  "  I  dare  say 
you  will  wonder,  though  you  will  not  ask  me, 
what  my  attitude  is  towards  Mr.  Overholt  now. 
At  present  I  have  none."  The  color  had  come 
back  to  her  face,  and  she  lifted  her  chin  with  the 
proud  gesture  Dr.  Challoner  knew  so  well  in  her. 

"  You  are  mistaken  in  supposing  I  have  nothing 
to  say  about  that  man,"  he  began,  deliberately. 
"  You  have  spoken  of  my  thinking  cruel  things  of 
you.  That  conversation  which  Uncle  John  over- 
heard —  have  you  nothing  to  say  in  explanation 
of  that?" 

"Nothing  whatever!"  she  exclaimed,  stung 
into  sudden  humiliation  and  defiance  by  his  un- 
consciously judicial  manner. 

They  sat  in  silence  for  some  minutes.  Then 
she  turned  on  him,  the  smoldering  wrath  of 
months  bursting  into  fierce  flame.  "  How  dared 
he,"  she  began,  her  breath  coming  in  short  gasps 
of  anger,  "  how  dared  he  presume  to  dispose  of  me, 
as  if  I  could  be  bought  or  sold  at  his  good  pleas- 
ure ! "  For  by  the  terms  of  Mr.  Brand's  will 


MRS.    BRAND  199 

she  was  to  inherit  an  absolutely  clear  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars  if  she  married  within  a  year  and 
a  half  of  his  death.  If  she  did  not,  she  was  to 
receive  merely  three  thousand  dollars  a  year  from 
the  trustees  of  the  estate. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  dwelling  on  it?  "  said  Dr. 
Challoner,  bitterly.  "  Like  many  other  wise  men, 
Uncle  John  made  a  fool  of  himself  when  it  came 
to  making  his  will.  No  such  will  would  stand  in 
any  court  of  law.  There  is  no  reason  why  you 
should  not  break  it." 

"I!  Break  it!  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  proudly. 
"  I  will  never  drag  my  affairs  through  a  court." 

"  After  all,  however  outrageous  as  it  seems,  he 
only  made  that  will  for  the  sake  of  securing  your 
happiness.  He  had  a  great  opinion  of  Mr.  Over- 
holt  —  at  that  time.  But  we  are  talking  to  no 
purpose,  Cecily.  You  are  face  to  face  with  your 
future.  You  say,  as  you  said  at  first,  that  you 
will  never  break  the  will.  There  is  something  else 
I  hope  you  will  say  with  equal  decision."  He 
looked  at  her  squarely,  unflinchingly.  The  color 
rose  in  her  face,  flooding  it  with  crimson  tumult. 


200  MRS.    BRAND 

"  If  you  do  not,  you  will  make  shipwreck  of  your 
life." 

She  went  over  and  knelt  down  in  front  of  the 
fire,  holding  out  her  cold  hands  to  the  blaze. 
There  was  a  forlornness  in  her  attitude,  and  a 
pathos  in  her  severely  black  dress,  with  its  white 
bands  and  collar,  that  seemed  painfully  illus- 
trative of  her  bereft  condition.  Dr.  Challoner 
had  never  realized  before  how  alone  she  was  in 
the  world.  Yet  he  thought  he  understood  the 
defiance  with  which  she  had  assumed  the  flaming 
bunch  of  geraniums  at  her  belt.  "  Poor  child !  " 
he  said,  softly.  She  turned  swiftly  towards  him, 
her  eyes  bright  with  unshed  tears. 

"  Oh,  Arthur,  you  don't  know  how  hard  it  is. 
You  don't  know  anything  about  it.  After 
all,  one  is  but  an  atom  in  the  path  of  Fate." 

"  Oh,  no,  no!  "  He  spoke  with  vehemence,  his 
voice  hardening  resistently  as  the  image  of  Mr. 
Overholt  rose  before  his  mind.  "  That  is  a  fatal 
way  of  thinking.  You  must  never  fall  into  it." 
How  difficult  it  was  to  talk  to  her!  He  must 
get  away  and  think  it  all  over  —  these  revelations 
that  the  evening  had  brought  to  him  were  bewil- 


MRS.    BRAND  201 

dering,  and  he  was  desperately  afraid  of  being 
betrayed  into  undue  speech.  Reluctantly  he 
looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Ten  o'clock.  I  must  be  off,  for  I  have  some 
children  I  promised  to  see  to-night." 

"When  will  you  come  again?  You  don't 
know  how  lonely  it  is,"  she  said,  wistfully. 

"  Soon,  Cecily.  But  you  must  come  and  see 
us  —  often.  You  would  like  Mrs.  McGarvey." 

The  tears  were  in  her  eyes  again.  Was  it  that 
the  "  us  "  grated  on  her  proscriptively*?  Dr.  Chal- 
loner  felt  troubled. 


CHAPTER  XI 

"  MRS.  BRAND  will  come  to  lunch  with  us  to- 
morrow," said  Dr.  Challoner  one  day  to  Mrs. 
McGarvey. 

"There,  now!  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  all  she 
wanted  was  the  asking,  and  if  she  comes  once 
she'll  come  again  without  that." 

"  Why?  " 

"  Because  it's  like  a  spell  —  the  tenements,  I 
mean.  I  don't  believe  that  any  thoughtful  man 
or  woman  who  ever  went  through  this  district 
could  ever  live  again  in  indifference  to  it.  I  don't 
mean  to  say  that  every  one  who  comes  to  see 
Moon  Street  ought  to  stay  and  live  here,  though 
I  sometimes  think  I  shall  have  to.  But  life  can 
never  be  the  same  again  after  all  this  misery  has 
photographed  itself  on  any  one's  conscience. 
There,  now!  Isn't  that  quite  an  oration*?  But 
it's  just  what  I  think." 

This  announcement  of  Mrs.  Brand's  approach- 
202 


MRS.    BRAND  203 

ing  visit  threw  Mrs.  McGarvey  into  quite  a  flut- 
ter. She  had,  of  course,  heard  Mr.  Brand's  will 
in  relation  to  his  wife  discussed  a  great  many 
times,  but  she  had  never  seen  Mrs.  Brand.  With 
the  rest  of  the  world  she  had  plausibly  concluded- 
that  Dr.  Challoner  was  the  man  whom  Mr.  Brand 
designed  to  benefit  under  the  conditions  of  his 
will,  and,  naturally  enough,  the  longer  she  knew 
him,  and  the  more  attached  she  became  to  him,  the 
greater  was  her  curiosity  as  to  what  manner  of 
woman  it  might  be  who  provoked  sane  men  to  the 
doing  of  things  inexplicable. 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  McGarvey  a  little 
pettishly,  when  his  wife,  in  his  opinion  unduly 
excited  by  the  prospective  visit,  began  to  discuss 
the  matter  anew  in  all  its  bearings,  "  I've  told  you 
before  that  the  person  who  has  most  cause  to 
complain  in  this  affair  is  Mrs.  Brand  herself." 
He  had  wound  himself  up  and  down  so  many 
times  in  contemplation  of  the  matter  that  he  was 
really  growing  weary  of  the  exercise  in  that  par- 
ticular connection. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  that  would  be  so  if  she  was  a 
nice  woman,"  said  Mrs.  McGarvey,  with  the 


204  MRS.    BRAND 

vigor  of  conviction,  "  but  Mrs.  Boyington  says 
she  is  so  proud  and  self-contained  that  you  daren't 
even  refer  to  her  affairs." 

"  Seems  to  me  that's  the  best  thing  I've  heard 
about  her  yet,"  remarked  Mr.  McGarvey,  stolidly. 

This  ineffective-looking  Scotchman  had  applied 
himself  to  a  practical  comprehension  of  the  polit- 
ical details  in  his  ward  with  an  undemonstrative 
pertinacity  which  boded  no  peace  to  the  settled 
order  of  things  when  he  should  once  have  sifted 
and  assorted  the  data  he  was  so  patiently  collect- 
ing. So  the  next  day  it  happened  that  he  was 
absent  following  a  trail  "  which  led  to  Hell,"  as 
he  himself  expressed  it.  When  he  returned  in  the 
evening  he  saw  at  once  that  his  wife  was  in  a  state 
of  mental  inflation  that  demanded  relief. 

"  Well,  did  she  come?  "  he  asked,  to  afford  a 
safety  valve.  He  was  very  tired,  and  could  have 
enjoyed  a  quiet  half -hour  with  his  pipe  just  then, 
but  in  his  thirty  years  of  marital  apprenticement 
he  had  acquired  a  diplomatic  scent  which  he  was 
occasionally  betrayed  into  using. 

"  Come !  "  exclaimed  his  wife,  explosively.  "  I 
should  say  she  did,  and  Sandy  McGarvey,  don't 


MRS.    BRAND  205 

you  ever  again  let  a  soul  say  a  word  to  you  about 
her." 

This  was  rather  sweepingly  prohibitive,  and 
Mr.  McGarvey  laid  down  the  evening  paper 
which  he  had  picked  up  for  furtive  perusal,  with 
a  sigh  of  renunciation.  What  was  coming  now? 

"Proud!  Why,  she  hadn't  been  here  five 
minutes  before  she  sat  down  to  help  me  with  these 
shirts  I'm  making  for  the  Schmolze  boys.  Though 
I  don't  think  she  knows  much  about  gussets,  I 
must  say."  There  was  a  sub-vocal  effect  about 
this  remark  which  Mr.  McGarvey  wisely  con- 
cluded to  denote  something  unfit  for  his  ears. 
"  And  we  had  just  the  nicest  talk.  She  wanted 
to  know  all  I  could  tell  her  about  the  people  in 
the  tenements,  and  sometimes  the  tears  were  in 
her  eyes,  and  sometimes  they  were  in  mine.  And 
to  think  of  me  worrying  all  this  time  because  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  marry  her  and  couldn't 
love  her.  Love  her!  Why,  he  doesn't  know 
whether  he's  in  the  body  or  out  of  it  when  he's 
near  her.  He  just  floats  straight  off  to  Paradise." 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  "  inquired  her  hus- 
band, an  obnoxious  taint  of  scepticism  in  his  tone. 


206  MRS.    BRAND 

"  How  do  I  know  when  the  fire  burns?  Or 
when  the  sun  shines?  "  retorted  his  wife,  with  fine 
scorn.  "  How  did  I  know  when  you  fell  in  love 
with  me  yourself,  Sandy  McGarvey." 

"  Because  I  told  you  so,"  said  he,  stoutly. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  You  don't  suppose  it  took 
me  all  that  time  to  find  out  what  was  the  matter 
with  you?  " 

"  Then,  of  course,  Mrs.  Brand  understands  the 
situation  perfectly? "  he  asked,  not  without 
malice  aforethought. 

"  Ah,  now,  there  it  is !  "  exclaimed  his  wife,  in 
a  tone  of  despair.  "  For,  would  you  believe  it, 
I  don't  think  she  has  the  least  idea  of  such  a  thing. 
The  trouble  is,  she  knows  him  too  well  to  know 
him  differently." 

"  She's  a  very  pretty  woman,"  said  Mr.  Mc- 
Garvey, rashly  and  irrelevantly. 

"  Pretty !  There  isn't  a  pretty  thing  about 
her."  Mrs.  McGarvey's  face  expressed  genuine 
surprise  at  this.  "  She's  just  like  a  queen  mas- 
querading round  without  her  crown  on.  No,  she 
isn't  pretty,  but  a  pretty  woman  would  stand  no 
chance  beside  her.  When  she's  happy  she's  beau- 
tiful." 


MRS.    BRAND  207 

"  Isn't  she  happy,  then?  " 

"  No,  she's  miserable,"  said  Mrs.  McGarvey, 
with  decision.  "  And  how  could  she  be  anything 
else  with  such  an  insulting  will  as  that  hanging 
over  her  head.  When  she  said  good-bye  to  me 
she  kissed  me  —  " 

"  I  don't  wonder  at  that,"  interposed  Mr. 
McGarvey,  unguardedly,  whereupon  his  wife 
threw  him  a  withering  glance  —  "  Just  like  a 
child,  and  said  she  would  come  again  soon.  She 
hadn't  had  such  a  happy  day  for  years." 

"  Did  she  go  through  the  tenements?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  didn't  see  her  again  after  that. 
Dr.  Challoner  took  her  around  himself.  I  hap- 
pened to  tell  her  about  Trixy  Gaynor,  and  it 
stirred  her  all  up.  I  don't  believe  she's  ever  come 
in  contact  with  real,  aching  misery,  and  I  thought 
it  would  give  her  something  to  think  about." 

"  'Tisn't  any  good  to  expect  to  influence  people 
by  spelling  misery  at  them  with  ever  so  big  an  M. 
You  want  to  bring  them  into  direct  contact  with 
somebody  whose  life  is  ruined  by  the  big  M, 
Personalization  versus  Generalization,"  said  Mr. 
McGarvey,  philosophically,  and  as  he  hoped  con- 
clusively. 


208  MRS.    BRAND 

While  they  were  thus  discussing  her,  Mrs. 
Brand  was  sitting  quietly  at  home  before  her 
cheerful  fire.  She  was  very  tired.  She  had 
climbed  more  stairs  that  day  than  she  had  done 
since  she  was  a  weary  little  item  in  the  schools 
which  are  the  nation's  pride.  But  it  was  not  the 
remembrance  of  the  stairs  that  oppressed  her  now. 
From  time  to  time  she  scanned  her  pretty  room 
and  its  exquisite  appointments  with  a  scrutiny 
which  found  no  satisfaction  in  its  perfect  harmony 
of  color  and  design.  For  her  mind  was  busy 
setting  it  in  sharp  contrast  to  that  other  room, 
whose  furnishings  it  required  no  effort  of  memory 
to  recall.  Think  of  a  girl,  young  and  still  pretty, 
lying  there  day  after  day  alone,  facing  in  despera- 
tion the  insidious  approach  of  that  which  she 
dreaded  most!  But  what  joys  had  life  brought 
her  that  she  should  still  crave  it?  Think  of  it  — 
to  be  but  twenty,  and  to  have  swept  the  tragic 
gamut  of  human  sin  and  suffering!  To  be  but 
twenty,  and  to  curse  God  for  having  made  man  in 
his  own  image! 

"  Would    you    mind    waiting    here    just    a 
moment? "    Dr.    Challoner    had    said,    pausing 


MRS.    BRAND  209 

before  a  certain  door,  after  he  had  conducted  her 
hither  and  thither,  chiefly  in  explanation  of  the 
various  plans  which  the  trustees  had  under  con- 
sideration. "  I  must  run  in  for  a  moment  to  see 
a  sick  girl." 

"  Let  me  go  in  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Brand, 
quickly.  She  divined  that  this  was  Trixy  Gay- 
nor's  room. 

Dr.  Challoner  hesitated.  "  I  don't  know,"  he 
said,  doubtfully.  "  She  is  very  proud,  and  would 
resent  any  intrusion  of  her  privacy  as  much  as 
you  would  yourself." 

"  I  know.  But  do  let  me  go  in.  It's  Trixy 
Gaynor,  and  I  want  to  see  her.  Don't  stand  argu- 
ing !  "  She  gave  him  a  little  push,  to  which  he 
weakly  yielded,  and  they  went  in. 

"  Well,  Trixy,"  he  said,  cheerfully,  as  he  went 
over  to  the  bed.  "  How  goes  it  to-day"?  Mrs. 
Brand  and  I  were  passing,  and  I  brought  her  in 
with  me,  for  I  shan't  be  coming  this  way  again 
to-day." 

But  Trixy  answered  nothing.  She  lay,  propped 
up  as  well  as  might  be  by  two  small,  hard  pil- 
lows, on  her  still  harder  bed.  Her  lips  were 


210  MRS.    BRAND 

tightly  drawn  in  an  unlovely  line,  and  her  eyes 
flashed  angry  defiance  at  Mrs.  Brand.  For  Trixy 
hated  a  "  lady,"  and  Mrs.  Brand's  bearing  was 
a  fatal  witness  against  her.  She  knew  them,  with 
their  pharisaical  ways  and  pious  drivelings!  But 
she  had  settled  the  last  one  who  had  come  to  pray 
at  her,  and  she  had  not  lost  her  grip  on  the  method 
yet. 

Mrs.  Brand  sat  down  upon  a  rickety  chair 
beside  the  dull  window,  and  looked  out  upon  the 
dirty  street  where  dirty  children  monotonously 
screamed  themselves  hoarse  for  lack  of  anything 
else  to  do.  She  had  assimilated  Trixy's  attitude 
toward  her  in  an  instant,  and  knew  that,  however 
great  her  interest  might  be  in  the  girl,  there  was 
no  opportunity  at  present  of  manifesting  it.  She 
must  obliterate  herself  as  much  as  possible  while 
Dr.  Challoner  rearranged  the  medicines,  and  gave 
his  directions  about  them. 

But  all  at  once  she  jumped  excitedly  from  her 
seat.  "  Oh,  look,  look !  He  will  pound  that  little 
fellow  to  death.  Run  down,  quick !  " 

Dr.  Challoner  calmly  crossed  over  to  the  win- 
dow, but  after  looking  down  a  moment  he  ran 


MRS.    BRAND  211 

out,  and  they  heard  his  footsteps  clattering  rapidly 
over  the  uneven  stairs. 

"  There !  He  has  got  him.  Shake  him  hard ! 
The  great,  mean  coward !  You  poor  little  bit  of 
a  boy!" 

Trixy  watched  Mrs.  Brand  curiously,  the  hard 
lines  around  her  mouth  softening  a  little. 

"  Now,  I  hope  you're  satisfied,"  said  Dr.  Chal- 
loner,  tolerantly,  as  he  came  breathless  into  the 
room  again.  "  I  banged  the  big  fellow  nicely,  and 
sent  the  little  chap  home  to  his  mother,  and  he's 
got  a  good  one,  so  you  needn't  lie  awake  to-night 
thinking  about  it.  Now,  Trixy,"  he  went  on, 
turning  his  attention  to  his  patient  again,  "  have 
you  been  taking  this  medicine  regularly?  " 

"  Yes,  sir, —  that  is,  as  well  as  I  could."  What 
a  pretty  voice  it  was ! 

"  As  well  as  you  could !  I  wonder  how  well 
that  was  with  a  clock  that's  stopped.  What's  the 
matter  with  it*?  When  did  it  stop?  "  He  wound 
it,  and  shook  it,  and  dosed  it  with  epithets,  but 
all  to  no  purpose,  for  it  remained  unmoved  by  all 
his  appeals. 

"  It  stopped  last  night.  Emmy  said  she  was 
afraid  it  wouldn't  be  worth  repairing." 


212  MRS.    BRAND 

"  Whew !  This  will  never  do.  You  must  have 
your  medicine  regularly."  He  looked  about  him 
in  perplexity,  as  if  to  evoke  timepieces  from  the 
atmosphere. 

"  Here,  take  my  watch,"  said  Mrs.  Brand. 
"  Trixy  can  keep  it  till  I  come  again.  Do, 
please !  "  She  held  it  out  with  a  smile,  and 
Trixy,  wondering,  uncertain,  caught  the  flash  of 
diamonds.  "  Why,  it's  dreadful  to  think  of  your 
taking  your  medicine,  hit  or  miss,  in  that  way. 
See,  I  will  wind  it  for  you,  and  then  you  will 
know  all  about  it." 

Trixy  said  nothing,  but  suddenly  she  stretched 
her  hand  out  with  the  artless  gesture  of  a  child 
eager  for  some  new  toy.  Just  think  of  it,  to  have 
that  lovely,  gleaming  thing  beside  her  all  through 
the  long,  long  day  when  Emmy  was  at  work,  and 
the  silent  hours  seemed  endless,  and  she  grew  to 
hate  the  white  walls  that  shut  her  in  with  her 
lonely  thoughts. 

"  What  time  does  Emmy  get  home,  Trixy?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Brand,  with  a  natural  assumption  of 
intimacy  that  made  Dr.  Challoner  check  an 
amused  smile. 


MRS.    BRAND  213 

"  About  half-past  seven,  ma'am." 

"  Dear  me !  That's  a  long  time !  "  said  Mrs. 
Brand,  softly.  "  What  do  you  do  when  it  gets 
dark?  " 

"  Just  wait,  ma'am." 

"  What  would  you  do4?  "  asked  Dr.  Challoner, 
looking  at  Mrs.  Brand. 

She  hesitated  a  moment.  Then  she  said, 

vehemently,  "  What  should  I  do?  Just  get 

wild!" 

Trixy  laughed,  quaveringly  perhaps,  but 
nevertheless  in  real  echo  of  the  happy  laughter 
which  had  once  rippled  so  readily  from  her  young 
throat.  This  kind  of  sympathy  was  new  and 
sweet  to  her.  She  understood  it  better  than 
prayers.  But  looking  up  at  Mrs.  Brand,  she  saw 
that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

Trixy  never  looked  at  the  diamonds  around  the 
watch  again  without  thinking  of  that.  This  was 
the  experience  insistently  rehearsing  itself  to  Mrs. 
Brand  as  she  sat  alone  that  evening,  surrounded 
by  every  luxurious  trick  of  wealth.  What  were 
her  own  troubles  in  comparison  with  that  girl's 
misery?  Trixy's  face  and  manner  haunted  her; 


214  MRS.    BRAND 

perhaps  she  was  dimly  conscious  of  a  nature  there 
akin  to  her  own.  What  could  one  do  for  the  girl  *? 
She  sat  a  long  time  thinking.  It  was  not  as  simple 
as  it  seemed  when  she  stood  beside  the  bed  with 
the  proffered  watch  in  her  hand.  For  not  all  the 
treasures  of  time  could  buy  back  for  Trixy  the 
heart  of  childhood,  or  wipe  away  from  her  life 
the  stain  of  sin.  Wealth  —  it  was  an  impotent 
thing. 

Mrs.  Brand  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  shiv- 
ered—  just  as  she  had  shivered  in  the  church  a 
year  before.  It  was  for  wealth,  that  cruel  trav- 
esty of  human  weal,  that  she  was  giving  herself 
up  to  be  driven  on  to  the  rocks  of  a  future  in 
which  she  had  no  faith.  Generally  she  managed 
to  elude  a  crisis  with  her  conscience,  but  to-night 
it  held  her  in  its  clutch,  and  she  shrunk  affrighted 
from  its  stern  arraignment  of  her  weaknesses. 

Why  had  she  come  home  at  all*?  He  would 
have  sought  her  out  anyway ;  she  knew  that.  But 
that  was  not  it.  She  had  come  because  the 
temptation  to  dare  her  fate  was  irresistible. 
What  was  the  secret  of  his  fascination  for  her*? 
Must  she  seek  it  in  herself? 


MRS.    BRAND  215 

The  image  of  her  husband  rose  before  her,  set- 
ting her  veins  aflame  with  indignation.  For 
months  after  she  had  first  heard  his  will  read  she 
had  resolutely  closed  her  mind  to  any  contempla- 
tion of  it.  But  that  attitude  was  necessarily  a 
temporary  one,  and  when  she  once  began  to  con- 
template, she  amply  atoned  for  her  delay. 

"  Why  don't  you  come  to  church*?  "  Mr.  Over- 
holt  inquired,  when  calling  on  her  one  afternoon, 
some  weeks  after  she  had  first  seen  Trixy.  It  hap- 
pened that  Chrys  was  staying  with  her,  and,  weary 
from  hours  of  active  play,  he  had  fallen  asleep 
in  her  lap.  She  had  tried  to  keep  him  awake, 
for  in  his  unending  interrogatory  fusillade  there 
was  safety  for  her. 

"  Why  should  I4?  "  she  answered,  indifferently. 
"  I  don't  care  anything  about  the  Church  of  the 
Pilgrims." 

"  Nor  about  its  minister"? "  he  asked  in  cool, 
even  tones,  a  smile  in  the  dark,  blue  eyes  auda- 
ciously bent  upon  her. 

"Why  should  I?"  she  asked. 

"  Then  you  admit  that  the  question  is  open  to 
argument1?  " 


216  MRS.    BRAND 

"  No.  I  don't  admit  anything." 

"  I  think  you  are  wise,"  he  retorted,  with  a  care- 
less, little  laugh.  "  That  is  always  the  safer  plea 
in  any  case,  innocent  or  guilty." 

"  Innocent  or  guilty1?  "  she  repeated,  spurred 
into  argument  against  her  better  judgment. 
"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Wait  a  moment.  That  child  is  too  heavy  for 
you.  Let  me  slip  a  cushion  under  your  arm,  if 
you  won't  let  me  lay  him  down.on  the  divan." 

"  No,  you  may  put  him  down."  Perhaps  the 
child  would  kindly  awaken  under  the  transfer, 
and  so  save  her  from  the  situation  into  which  her 
rashness  had  betrayed  her. 

"  Just  as  you  wish,"  said  Mr.  Overholt,  so 
gently  that  she  instantly  felt  that  her  remark  had 
been  misinterpreted. 

But  Chrys  did  not  awaken.  He  relinquished 
his  fat  little  body  to  the  easier  position  with  a 
deep  sigh  of  satisfaction,  and  his  father  sat  down 
opposite  Mrs.  Brand.  He  was  acutely  conscious 
of  the  difficulties  of  his  position. 

But  the  strain  was  becoming  prolonged.  Under 
the  stress  of  it  his  sermons  were  losing  some  of 


MRS.    BRAND  217 

their  savor.  The  easy  confidence  with  which  he 
had  addressed  himself  to  his  task  when  Mrs. 
Brand  first  returned  home  was  deserting  him. 
There  were  pernicious  influences  at  work  about 
her.  Dr.  Challoner  was  quite  as  anxious  as  he 
was  himself  to  appropriate  the  "  unearned  incre- 
ment "  which  his  uncle  had  so  manifestly 
intended  for  him,  conditioned  as  it  was  on  the 
acceptance  of  a  wife  worthy  to  be  courted  for  her- 
self alone.  It  irritated  him  to  think  that  the  old 
man's  object  in  making  so  dense  a  will  became 
no  clearer  to  him  with  the  lapse  of  time,  and  Mrs. 
Brand  had  never  yielded  him  so  much  as  a  hint  in 
regard  to  the  matter.  Her  recent  astonishing  dis- 
play of  interest  in  Moon  Street  seemed  to  him  in 
very  bad  taste,  for  he  was  quite  certain  that  she 
cared  no  more  for  those  abominable  tenements 
than  he  did  himself.  She  was  not  the  kind  of 
woman  who  fell  a  victim  to  enthusiasms.  Per- 
haps, after  all,  these  things  which  worried  him 
most  were  but  the  final  flings  of  power  before 
abdication.  Of  course  she  meant  to  marry  him. 
It  was  easy  to  define  her  attitude  toward  Chal- 


218  MRS.    BRAND 

loner.    She  might  use  the  fellow  as  a  cats-paw, 
to  be  sure,  but  why  shouldn't  she? 

In  the  meantime  he  chafed  under  the  difficult 
distance  she  had  set  for  him  since  her  widowhood. 
Considering  the  various  episodes  between  them 
this  seemed  absurd.  There  was  a  sphere  in  which 
a  man,  properly  enough,  contented  himself  with 
ocular  tastes  of  his  passion,  but  the  alluring  charm 
which  Mrs.  Brand  possessed  for  him  rendered  this 
pastime  increasingly  difficult.  As  he  diagnosed 
his  case  he  felt  a  thrill  of  gratification  at  the 
extent  of  her  hold  over  him.  It  would  be  a  novel 
and  exhilarating  experience  to  be  passionately  in 
love  with  his  wife;  he  was  feverishly  eager  to 
enter  upon  it.  He  was  weary  of  this  prolonged 
parrying  of  the  point  at  issue  with  weapons  which  ' 
had  grown  perilously  fine  by  over-practice. 

"Haven't  you  a  cigar  about  you*?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Brand,  reasoning  that  if  a  man  had  a  cigar 
he  was  not  likely  to  yearn  altogether  for  some- 
thing else. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  replied  Mr.  Overholt,  "  but  I 
don't  wish  to  smoke  it." 

By  one  of  those  nervous  contradictions  of  inten- 


MRS.    BRAND  219 

tion  which  betray  even  the  best  regulated  at  times, 
she  looked  at  him  squarely,  and  the  gravity  of 
his  direct  gaze  met  her  like  an  electric  shock. 

"  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  spoken  as  I  did 
just  now,"  he  began,  quickly,  "  but  really,  I  some- 
times wonder  just  how  clear  your  conscience  is 
in  regard  to  me." 

"  My  conscience ! "  Why  could  she  not 
throttle  that  sneaking,  little  tremor  in  her  throat? 

"  Yes,  your  conscience.  Don't  you  understand 
what  I  mean?  " 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  Well,  to  speak  plainly "  He  hesitated, 

for  he  had  not  the  least  idea  what  to  fill  in  with 
next,  his  prearranged  ideas  vulgarly  deserting 

him "  tell  me,  is  it  nothing  to  you,  this  long, 

patient  struggle  I  am  bearing  for  your  sake  with- 
out a  word?  " 

Mrs.  Brand  rose  from  her  chair  in  undisguised 
agitation,  with  an  imperious  intention  to  refuse  the 
subject  her  consideration. 

"  No,  you  must  listen  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Over- 
holt.  "A  man  cannot  go  on  indefinitely  as  I 
have  been  doing,  and  you  know  that  I  have 


220  MRS.    BRAND 

refrained  from  any  expression  of  my  feelings 
simply  out  of  deference  to  what  might  be  your 
wishes.  But  do  you  think  that  I  can  keep  from 
making  comparisons  between  what  is  and  what 
might  be?  Do  you  think  that  I  can  come  here, 
feeling  towards  you  as  I  do,  and  see  my  child  so 
happy  with  you,  loving  you  as  he  loves  no  one 
else,  and  then  go  back  to  my  home  without  any 
bitter  sense  of  contrast?  Would  you  have  any 
regard  for  me  if  I  could?  " 

Thus  far  he  had  spoken  with  an  admirable  air 
of  self -repression,  but  now  his  voice  betrayed  an 
emotion  which  was,  perhaps,  the  most  genuine 
sensation  he  had  experienced  for  years.  "  But  it 
is  not  that  —  no  thought  of  my  loneliness,  or  of 
my  child  even,  which  forces  me  to  speak  to  you 
to-night.  It  is  because  I  love  you  —  because  you 
are  to  me  what  no  other  woman  ever  has  been,  or 
ever  could  be."  He  was  beginning  to  revel  in  his 
emotions  now,  just  as  he  did  when  preaching,  and 
he  was  so  accustomed  to  carrying  his  audience 
with  him  that  it  was  like  a  blow  to  him  when  Mrs. 
Brand  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed.  She 
had  dreaded  this  ordeal  so  much,  but  now  that  it 


MRS.    BRAND  221 

was  actually  presented  to  her  she   felt  herself 
easily  mistress  of  the  situation. 

"  How  can  I  help  laughing*?  "  she  said  to  him, 
with  a  charming  air  of  confidence.  "  Really,  you 
must  never  make  love  to  me.  I  couldn't  possibly 
take  it  seriously,  you  know."  She  laughed  again. 

Mr.  Overholt  bit  his  lip,  and  was  silent.  And 
he  kept  silent  so  long  that  Mrs.  Brand  felt  her- 
self growing  unexpectedly  nervous.  At  last  he 
turned  to  her  eagerly.  "  Have  you  a  pen  and 
some  paper  at  hand*?  "  he  said.  "  One  of  those 
sudden  Heaven-sent  inspirations  for  a  sermon  has 
come  to  me.  You  wouldn't  mind  my  writing  it 
out  here,  would  you1?  " 

"  I  should  be  charmed,"  she  said,  drily,  as  she 
found  him  what  he  required.  Then  she  sought 
her  own  work,  and  vagrantly  applied  her  needle 
to  its  detriment  in  the  quiet  hour  that  followed. 
She  vainly  hoped  that  some  visitor  or  some 
domestic  would  call  her  away,  and  so  relieve  her 
humiliation.  Mr.  Overholt  wrote  rapidly,  and 
when  he  had  covered  several  pages  he  asked 
whether  he  might  read  them  to  her.  Though  she 
was  really  too  angry  now  to  take  kindly  to 


222  MRS.    BRAND 

homiletics,  he  seemed  serenely  unaware  of  this, 
and,  in  spite  of  herself,  after  several  unheeded 
sentences,  she  yielded  to  the  spell  of  his  special 
gift. 

"How  will  that  do?"  he  asked.  "It's  the 
close  of  my  sermon  for  next  Sunday  morning. 
You  can't  think  how  it  has  bothered  me." 

"  It  will  do,"  she  said,  simply.  "  I  heard  Mr. 
Boyington  describe  one  of  your  sermons  the  other 
day  as  a  *  cerebral  ecstasy.'  I  am  afraid  you 
will  bankrupt  his  vocabulary  this  time." 

Mr.  Overholt  laughed.  "  That's  Boyington. 
But  he  will  always  be  equal  to  any  emergency. 
And  now,  to  go  on  just  where  we  left  off  just  now, 
if  you  remember."  This  matter-of-fact  method  of 
resuming  a  crisis  took  her  breath  away.  "  There 
are  several  things  I  must  set  straight  for  you.  I 
have  no  defence  to  offer  for  the  youth  of  a  past 
decade.  But  am  I  always  to  be  judged  by  the  fol- 
lies and  mistakes  of  those  times?  Is  there  no  such 
thing  as  development1?  Have  you  nothing  to 
regret?  Can  you  look  back  now  and  say,  '  All 
I  ask  is  to  be  judged  by  what  I  was  when  I  was 
nineteen.'  I  do  not  ask  you  now  to  listen  to  the 


MRS.    BRAND  223 

boy  who  loved  you  then.  But  I  do  insist  that  you 
shall  be  fair  to  the  man  who  offers  you  that  which 
you  may  esteem  lightly  perhaps,  but  which  is  the 
very  best  he  has  to  give." 

His  dignity  of  speech  and  bearing  sat  well  upon 
him,  and  Mrs.  Brand  felt  it  would  be  ungenerous 
not  to  acknowledge  his  claim. 

"  Those  things  are  past  and  gone,  and  there 
can  be  no  gratification  to  either  of  us  in  raking  up 
dead  issues." 

"  Of  course  not,"  he  said,  quickly.  "  But  there 
is  something  more  I  must  say.  I  am  quite  sure  I 
should  not  feel  as  I  do  now,  if  you  were  just  what 
you  used  to  be.  I  was  afraid  of  you  then ;  I  knew 
that  there  was  but  little  resemblance  between  me 
as  I  really  was,  and  the  ideal  you  took  me  for. 
That  tormented  me;  I  couldn't  stand  it.  It  drove 
me  to  others  in  whose  society  there  was  no  impos- 
sible standard  set  for  me.  You  were  very  exact- 
ing in  those  days." 

"Am  I  less  so  now?" 

"  Yes.  You  haven't  studied  human  nature 
these  last  ten  years  for  nothing." 

Was  it  all  a  dream?  she  wondered  oddly,  these 


224  MRS.    BRAND 

low,  seductive  tones,  and  the  fair,  handsome  face 
bending  so  near  her  own*?  A  strange  apathy  came 
over  her.  Why  struggle  with  doubt  and  diffi- 
culty? Why  not  compromise  with  Fate? 

The  early  winter  evening  began  to  gather  them 
into  its  shadows.  The  magic  hour  was  upon 
them;  each  was  conscious  of  its  spell.  To  Mr. 
Overholt  the  dim  proximity  of  the  woman  for 
whom  his  fancy  had  turned  to  a  mature  passion 
was  rife  with  suggestion.  An  impulse  arose  in 
him,  only  to  be  repelled  and  rise  again.  If  he 
could  but  take  her  in  his  arms,  as  he  had  done  so 
many  times  in  the  long  ago,  she  would  be  con- 
strained to  yield  as  she  had  done  before. 

"  Cecily,"  he  murmured,  bending  tenderly 
over  her,  his  hand  grasping  for  hers  hidden  in  the 
fold  of  her  dress.  "  Cecily,  can  we  not  begin 
again  where  we  left  off,  and  forget  the  stretch  be- 
tween? "  But  his  lips  so  near  her  face  filled  her 
with  alarm.  There  was  in  her  yet  a  fierce,  un- 
conquered  maidenhood  that  shrank  from  his 
approach.  At  that  moment  she  felt  again  a  weird 
dread  of  him. 


MRS.    BRAND  225 

"  No,"  she  said,  drawing  back.  "  No;  we  can- 
not begin  there,  nor  anywhere  else." 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  urged,  repentantly.  "  I 
ought  to  be  a  better  master  of  myself." 

He  rose  to  go,  and  then  crossed  the  room  to 
stand  beside  his  child  a  moment.  After  a  little 
silence  he  said  softly,  "  Come  here." 

"  I  won't,"  an  answer  that  sounded  absurdly 
childish  to  Mrs.  Brand  as  she  uttered  it,  but  what 
else  could  she  say? 

"  Please  come  here,"  he  repeated,  with  gentle 
insistence. 

She  crossed  the  room  slowly  and  stood  beside 
him  looking  down  upon  the  sleeping  child,  who 
lay  in  the  careless  abandon  of  innocent  sleep, 
his  hair  tossed  in  golden  aureole  about  his  head, 
one  flushed  cheek  resting  upon  a  pink  little  palm. 
Never  had  he  looked  more  bewitching. 

Suddenly  holding  out  his  hand  to  her,  Mr. 
Overholt  said  with  a  quiver  in  his  vibrant  voice, 
"  Good  night,  Mrs.  Brand.  I  leave  my  boy  to 
plead  for  me." 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN  the  calmer  moments  which  succeeded  his  inter- 
view with  Mrs.  Brand,  Mr.  Overholt  was  not 
without  great  anxiety  in  regard  to  it.  But  of  one 
thing  he  had  at  least  assured  himself,  that  what- 
ever Dr.  Challoner's  intentions  might  be,  they 
were  not  as  yet  an  appreciable  menace  to  his  own 
prospects.  "  The  fellow's  an  unmitigated  ass," 
he  thought,  pleasantly,  pausing  in  the  preparation 
of  a  sermon  on  "  The  Sacred  Honeymoon  "  to 
enjoy  a  little  exegesis  of  a  more  personal  nature 
than  that  afforded  by  "  The  Song  of  Solomon." 
"  If  he  had  been  half  smart,  he  might  have  raked 
in  the  entire  outfit  by  this  time,  as  Boyington 
would  say." 

But  the  anxiety  he  had  felt  concerning  Dr. 
Challoner  was  now  transferred  to  Mrs.  Brand 
herself.  He  owned  himself  baffled  by  her  obsti- 
nacy, for  she  had  everything  to  gain  by  marriage 
with  him. 


MRS.    BRAND  227 

He  would  have  been  gratified  to  know  how 
entirely  Mrs.  Brand  shared  his  opinions.  She 
wondered  why  she  had  not  promptly  put  a  stop  to 
argument  by  accepting  him.  She  was  weary 
of  debating  the  matter  round  and  round  an  unend- 
ing circle.  Certainly,  she  had  no  ambition  to  be 
a  minister's  wife,  but  she  was  serenely  conscious 
of  the  fact  that  no  church  would  be  narrow- 
minded  enough  to  apply  to  her  the  standards  of 
piety  they  would  consider  binding  if  she  were 
poor.  As  to  Mr.  Overholt,  himself  —  well,  she 
knew  his  faults  thoroughly.  She  would  at  least 
be  spared  the  inevitable  discoveries  contempo- 
raneous with  honeymoons.  She  was  weary  of  her 
great  house  and  its  silences,  and  Mr.  Overholt  had 
builded  better  than  he  knew  when  he  left  her 
alone  that  evening  with  Chrys.  The  child  was 
with  her  continually,  partly  at  her  own  desire, 
partly  from  his  father's  policy,  and  each  time  that 
he  returned  home  from  one  of  these  visits  it 
became  harder  for  him  to  go,  and  harder  for  her 
to  part  with  him.  Aside  from  the  imperative 
charm  of  his  own,  little  personality,  she  felt  her- 
self under  bonds  to  his  dead  mother  for  his  hap- 


MRS.    BRAND 

piness.  When  he  stayed  with  her  now  his  little 
white  bed  was  drawn  up  close  beside  her  own. 
A  few  nights  after  her  conversation  with  his  father 
he  suddenly  awoke,  crying  out  in  terror,  "  Aunt 
Cecily,  Aunt  Cecily,  where  are  you1?  " 

"  Here,  darling,  here,"  she  answered  tenderly, 
reaching  out  her  hand  for  him  to  grasp. 

"  I  thought  God  had  taken  you  away,  too,"  he 
sobbed  out  in  his  distress,  and  would  not  be  com- 
forted until  he  had  crept  into  bed  beside  her,  and, 
nestling  close,  forgot  his  troubles  in  her  arms. 
Long  after  his  little  breast  had  ceased  to  heave 
with  his  imaginary  sorrows,  and  his  breath  came 
and  went  again  in  even  rhythm,  she  lay  awake, 
wrestling  with  the  problem  which  his  pathetic 
dependence  upon  her  was  pressing  home  to  her 
heart.  This  child  loved  her  unreservedly,  and  she 
had  more  faith  in  his  innocent  affection  than  in 
his  father's  lurid  ardor.  She  felt  a  certain  pride 
in  her  perception  of  the  fact  that  without  her 
encumbrances  Mr.  Overholt  would  probably  have 
had  no  desire  to  marry  her,  but  she  felt  herself 
equally  clear-sighted  in  the  belief  that  he  would 
be  more  devoted  to  her  and  her  bank  account  than 


MRS.    BRAND  229 

he  ever  could  be  to  any  other  woman.  Thus  she 
was  not  without  a  calm  calculation  of  her  charms 
for  him,  financial  and  physical,  and  this  temperate 
view  of  the  case  argued  a  maturity  of  judgment 
and  a  mellowing  of  experience  which  to  her  own 
view  of  herself  seemed  admirable.  The  marriage 
relation  was  replete  with  jack-in-the-box  effects 
for  the  unwary,  but  she  had  been  through  all  that. 
She  had  a  supreme  contempt  for  the  women  who 
constituted  themselves  moral  thermometers  for 
males.  One  could  afford  for  men  a  beneficent 
toleration,  for  they  were  all  alike,  the  best  and  the 
worst  of  them,  and,  after  all,  not  wholly  unlike 
their  critics.  As  the  wife  of  a  prominent  minister 
she  would  achieve  a  position  considerably  in 
advance  of  that  which  the  possession  of  mere 
wealth  could  bestow  upon  her.  Her  long  years 
of  association  with  a  man  whose  estimate  of  suc- 
cess was  naturally  that  of  a  money-maker  had 
deepened  in  her  an  inborn  passion  for  place  and 
power,  and  she  was  acutely  conscious  of  the  bril- 
liant possibilities  to  them  both  of  her  marriage 
with  Mr.  Overholt. 

Her  thoughts  wandered  into  a  lighter  vein.  She 


230  MRS.    BRAND 

remembered  with  a  smile  certain  defects  of  his 
delivery  and  theatricalities  of  style  which  had 
offended  her.  With  what  discretion  she  would 
apply  herself  to  their  eradication !  Of  course,  his 
poor,  little  wife  had  been  no  help  to  him  in  these 
respects.  Few  women  could  be.  It  required  an 
unerring  eye  for  snap,  and  fine  sense  of  circum- 
stances, to  undertake  the  development  of  genius 
in  another.  And  Mr.  Overholt  manifestly  ad- 
mired himself,  as  he  was  without  any  irritating 
pricks  of  perception  as  to  his  possibilities.  But  a 
humble  man,  fawning  and  solicitous  of  opinion, 
was  a  contemptible  object.  The  thing  was  to  play 
your  game  without  showing  your  hand.  A  good 
rule,  surely,  and  productive  of  a  clear  conscience 
—  were  men  but  cards ! 

No,  she  did  not  love  him,  but  she  argued  it 
likely  that  she  had  quite  as  much  regard  for  him  as 
most  wives  had  for  their  husbands  after  ten  years 
of  marriage,  and  she  certainly  had  loved  him  with 
all  the  ideal  fervor  of  her  girlhood.  She  felt  a 
little  thrill  of  gratitude  to  him  for  the  delicate 
way  in  which  he  had  intimated  to  her  his  under- 
standing of  the  fact  that  her  love  had  been  given 


MRS.    BRAND  231 

not  to  himself,  but  to  the  hero  of  her  dreams.  His 
perception  of  this  relieved  her  memory  of  some 
of  its  bitterest  stings. 

Thus  she  reasoned  as  she  lay  there  in  the  still- 
ness of  the  night  with  Chrys'  curly  little  head 
upon  her  arm.  But  away  beneath  this  babble  of 
the  surface,  in  the  recesses  of  her  woman's  soul, 
there  crouched  a  longing,  deep  and  strong  —  a 
God-implanted  instinct  which  she  was  striving  to 
gag  with  the  husks  of  worldly  wisdom  —  this 
passion  to  be  loved  with  the  love  which  knows 
neither  poverty  nor  riches,  sickness  nor  health, 
which  laughs  at  the  limitations  of  time  and 
eternity,  because  it  holds  in  itself  the  key  to  im- 
mortality. She  had  thought  herself  almost  per- 
suaded, but  in  an  unguarded  moment  love  lifted 
up  its  protest.  Tears  forced  themselves  beneath 
her  eyelids.  Why  was  the  way  so  hard  for  her? 
There  was  no  saintly  mother  in  the  Church  of  the 
Pilgrims  who  would  not  jump  at  the  chance  of 
bestowing  her  daughter  in  the  holy  bonds  of  matri- 
mony upon  its  brilliant  pastor.  So  the  battle 
waged  in  her  heart  from  day  to  day,  and  she  drew 
no  nearer  to  a  decision. 


232  MRS.    BRAND 

"  You  must  wait,"  she  said  to  Mr.  Overholt, 
though  she  despised  herself  for  the  suspense  which 
her  irresolution  entailed  upon  him.  "  I  can  not 
tell.  If  you  care  anything  about  it  all,  you  must 
leave  me  alone."  He  elected  to  consider  this 
encouraging,  and  proceeded  to  render  himself 
unobtrusively  indispensable  to  her,  for  which 
there  were  plenty  of  opportunities  in  the  difficul- 
ties which  perplex  a  woman  who  has  always 
treated  with  the  outside  world  by  proxy,  and 
whose  theories  of  finance  have  been  conditioned 
by  the  rise  and  fall  of  her  pocket-book. 

In  the  midst  of  all  these  distractions  she  had  not 
forgotten  Trixy  Gaynor.  The  girl  had  learned 
to  listen  for  the  coming  of  the  light  step  outside 
her  door,  and  by  degrees  Mrs.  Brand  was  discov- 
ering more  about  the  real  Trixy  than  anyone  had 
ever  known.  For  all  the  social  difference  between 
them  these  two  women  touched  at  so  many  points 
that  the  bond  of  sympathy  which  united  them  was 
not  surprising. 

April  came  with  its  days  when  the  soft  wind 
touched  the  tree-tops  with  hint  of  leaf  and  bud, 
and  when  the  very  ground  beneath  one's  feet 


MRS.    BRAND  233 

seemed  to  stir  with  the  preparation  of  imprisoned 
things  for  escape.  Even  in  Moon  Street  spring 
announced  its  advent,  and  pinched  children  ran 
to  and  fro  with  a  gladness  for  which  their  starved 
little  hearts  knew  no  explanation.  Mrs.  Brand,  on 
her  way  to  Trixy,  stopped  for  a  few  moments  at 
Brand  House  to  see  Mrs.  McGarvey.  They  talked 
about  the  girl  and  the  weary  progress  of  her 
disease. 

"  But  she  isn't  like  the  same  creature  that  she 
was  six  months  ago,"  said  Mrs.  McGarvey. 

"How  is  that?"  asked  Mrs.  Brand. 

"  My  dear,  I  went  in  to  see  her  time  and  time 
again,  and  she'd  just  lie  there  staring  at  me  with 
those  great  eyes  of  hers,  and  never  saying  one 
word.  Nervous !  I  used  to  be  ready  to  fly  before 
I  got  out  of  that  room.  One  day  after  I  had  gone 
in  and  fixed  her  up  as  comfortably  as  possible  she 
snapped  out  just  as  I  was  going,  *  Now  get  down 
and  pray  for  me ! ' 

Mrs.  Brand  laughed.  "  Yes,  I  can  just  imag- 
ine Trixy  saying  that.  I  suppose  she  really  want- 
ed to  thank  you  for  your  kindness.  But  when 
Trixy  gets  a  desperate  fit  on,  she's  pretty  bad.  " 


234  MRS.    BRAND 

"  It  isn't  to  be  wondered  at,"  said  Mrs.  Mc- 
Garvey.  "  I  don't  know  how  you  got  such  a  hold 
on  her.  No  one  else  could.  Now,  there  are  her 
flowers.  It  would  never  have  occurred  to  me  to 
take  those  dry,  old  bulbs  and  stick  them  into  that 
lovely  bowl  right  there  before  her  eyes,  and  let  her 
watch  them  grow." 

"  Oh,  how  sceptical  she  was  about  that,"  said 
Mrs.  Brand.  "  She  declared  they  wouldn't 
grow,  and  when  the  first  tiny  shoot  came  up  she 
could  hardly  believe  her  eyes." 

"  I  put  my  head  in  at  the  door  yesterday  as  I 
was  passing,  and  she  fairly  screamed  at  me,  '  Oh, 
Mrs.  McGarvey,  come  and  see  my  lily.'  She 
couldn't  talk  about  anything  else." 

"  And  still,  when  I  think  of  all  the  time  and 
thought  I've  put  on  Trixy,  it  seems  a  pretty  slow 
way  of  doing  much  good  in  the  world,  doesn't 
it?  "  said  Mrs.  Brand,  wistfully. 

"  It's  the  only  lasting  way,"  retorted  Mrs.  Mc- 
Garvey. "  Depend  upon  it,  my  dear,  Trixy  will 
be  a  star  in  your  crown,  and  except  for  you  she 
would  never  have  shone  in  anybody's." 

Mrs.  Brand  smiled,  but  there  was  a  veil  of  mist 


MRS.    BRAND  235 

in  her  eyes.  "  At  first  I  thought  I'd  like  to  take 
her  home  with  me,  and  let  her  die  in  what  we 
should  call  comfort.  But  when  I  came  to  know 
her  better,  and  to  see  things  from  her  point  of 
view,  I  realized  that  her  dark,  little  room  was 
home  to  her,  and  that  in  it  she  felt  free.  What- 
ever I  give  her  must  have  no  monetary  value  to 
speak  of  —  like  the  lilies." 

"  Has  she  ever  told  you  who  she  was?  "  asked 
Mrs.  McGarvey,  abruptly. 

"  No,  no !  The  other  day,  when  I  was  sitting 
with  her,  she  suddenly  began  to  cry,  and  after 
a  while  she  said,  '  Mrs.  Brand,  if  you  only  knew 
the  kind  of  girl  I've  been,  you  would  never  sit 
here  talking  to  me  like  you  do.'  So  I  said,  '  Why, 
Trixy,  I  know  all  about  it ! '  But  she  cried  out, 
'  No,  you  don't  know  anything  about  it,'  and  then 
she  broke  into  such  a  passion  of  grief  that  it  made 
my  heart  ache." 

"  What  did  you  do  with  her?  " 

"  Do  with  her !  Just  cried,  too  —  roared,  in 
fact,"  said  Mrs.  Brand,  tersely.  "  And  when  the 
uproar  was  at  its  very  height,  who  should  walk 


236  MRS.    BRAND 

calmly  into  it  but  Dr.  Challoner.  Didn't  he  tell 
you  about  it?  " 

Mrs.  McGarvey  shook  her  head. 

"  Well,  he  must  have  laughed  finely  in  his 
sleeve  at  me.  But  I  didn't  care  for  that.  What 
worried  me  was  to  think  how  humiliated  Trixy 
would  feel.  So  I  settled  her  back  on  her  pillows, 
and  mopped  up  my  face  in  a  hurry,  and  then  I 
said  to  him,  '  Oh,  yes ;  I  know  you  are  aching  to 
scold  me  for  stirring  Trixy  up  like  this,  and  a 
scolding  is  just  what  I  need,  but  I  won't  stand  it 
from  you.'  Arthur  is  a  blundering,  old  fellow, 
you  know,  but  not  with  sick  people." 

Mrs.  McGarvey  found  it  difficult  to  accept  the 
beneficent  air  of  concession  about  this  remark, 
but  she  said,  quietly  enough,  "  Yes,  he's  so  sensi- 
tive to  other  people's  suffering." 

"That's  just  it.  He  took  the  hint  at  once, 
pitched  into  me  right  and  left.  I  wasn't  to  be  let 
come  to  Moon  Street  any  more  if  I  couldn't 
behave  myself  with  his  patients,  and  a  great  deal 
more.  Of  course,  all  this  gave  Trixy  time  to 
quiet  down,  and  when  I  went  away  she  was  talk- 
ing quite  calmly  to  him." 


MRS.    BRAND  237 

"  Have  you  seen  him  since*? "  asked  Mrs.  Mc- 
Garvey. 

"  Yes,  but  he  was  grumpy." 

"  He  has  a  great  many  anxieties  just  now." 

"  It  wasn't  that,"  retorted  Mrs.  Brand.  "  Mr. 
Overholt  happened  to  be  there,  and  he  can't  bear 
Mr.  Overholt."  It  was  such  an  odd  relief  to  say 
this  to  Mrs.  McGarvey.  She  felt  as  if  she  had 
suddenly  let  out  a  tuck  in  her  mind,  and  was 
grateful  for  the  lessened  tension. 

"Mr.  Overholt!"  repeated  Mrs.  McGarvey. 
"  Does  he  often  come  to  see  you?  "  she  inquired, 
with  tentative  audacity. 

"  Quite  often,"  replied  Mrs.  Brand,  abruptly, 
annoyed  at  the  color  she  suddenly  felt  in  her  face. 
"  How  late  it  is!  "  she  exclaimed,  looking  at  the 
clock.  "  I  mustn't  keep  Trixy  waiting."  She 
leaned  over  Mrs.  McGarvey's  chair.  "  Good-bye, 
mither.  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  be  in  again." 

But  Mrs.  McGarvey  reached  up  and  caught  her 
hand.  The  tender  quaintness  of  the  old  word 
touched  into  flame  the  mother-love  in  her  heart, 
which  spent  itself  in  silence  upon  the  two  she 
loved  so  well,  the  one  as  much  as  the  other  now. 


238  MRS.    BRAND 

While  she  felt  for  Mrs.  Brand  a  certain  awe, 
which  was  quite  absent  from  the  thought  of  Dr. 
Challoner,  it  was  a  feeling  with  which  she  would 
not  willingly  have  dispensed.  She  took  a  certain 
irrational  delight  in  all  the  splendid  airs  of  this 
woman,  who  was,  after  all,  at  her  simplest  and 
best  with  her. 

"  Dear  heart,"  she  said,  "  don't  ever  let  any- 
thing come  between  you  and  the  labor  you  have 
begun  here  in  Moon  Street."  She  kissed  her 
solemnly,  tenderly,  and  then  without  a  word  Mrs. 
Brand  was  gone. 

Mrs.  McGarvey  sewed  swiftly  for  a  long  time, 
but  at  last  her  work  was  forgotten  in  her  thoughts. 
It  was  only  by  the  greatest  effort  that  she  had  con- 
trolled herself  in  speaking  to  Mrs.  Brand,  for 
what  had  been  most  dim  to  her  had  all  at  once 
become  most  clear,  and  in  the  wider  range  of  view 
so  suddenly  disclosed  she  saw  at  first  nothing  but 
despair.  She  knew  Mr.  Overholt  well  by  repute, 
and  in  the  light  of  that  knowledge  she  felt  like 
a  general  whose  pretty  pen-and-ink  campaign 
becomes  a  delusion  and  a  snare  in  the  unexpected 
presence  of  the  enemy.  Mr.  Overholt !  Why  had 


MRS.    BRAND  239 

she  never  taken  him  into  account  before?  "  To 
be  sure,  I've  heard  her  say  she  had  his  little  boy  to 
stay  with  her,  but  I  never  gave  the  man  himself 
a  thought,"  she  said  to  herself,  with  a  feeling  of 
unspeakable  disgust  at  her  own  thick-headedness. 
Then  she  rapidly  reviewed  the  situation  from  her 
altered  standpoint.  Now  she  understood  the 
shadow  that  had  fallen  on  Dr.  Challoner.  "  But 
why  doesn't  he  pitch  in  and  take  his  chances'?  " 
she  demanded  of  the  four  walls,  in  an  energetic 
whisper.  Well,  perhaps  he  had.  No,  he  hadn't. 
She  understood  Mrs.  Brand  well  enough  to  con- 
vince herself  of  that. 

With  her  natural  impetuosity  of  preference  or 
otherwise,  Mr.  Overholt  had  already  taken  his 
place  in  her  mind  as  "  that  man,"  and  her  antip- 
athy to  him  increased  steadily  in  the  same  propor- 
tion that  she  realized  his  mastery  of  the  situation. 
"  Why,  he's  got  everything  in  his  favor,"  she 
groaned.  "  What  a  position  she  would  have  as 
his  wife,  and  nobody  could  fill  it  as  she  would,  as 
he  knows  well  enough,  I'll  be  bound." 

When  Dr.  Challoner  came  home  to  lunch  she 
studied  him  long  and  silently.  There  was  an 


240  MRS.    BRAND 

absence  of  the  Machiavellian  in  her  honest  nature, 
and  the  strenuousness  of  her  gaze  impressed  itself 
upon  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  inquired.  "  Or  are 
you  just  using  me  for  a  peg  to  hang  a  few  thoughts 
on?  "  He  looked  at  her  with  such  a  bright  smile 
that  her  face  broadened  into  a  corresponding 
beam. 

"That's  better!  "  he  exclaimed,  but  there  was 
no  chance  for  further  conversation,  for  they  had 
taking  lunch  with  them  that  day,  some  friends  of 
Mrs.  McGarvey's,  who,  finding  at  last  that  their 
curiosity  was  really  stronger  than  their  disgust, 
had  come  to  investigate  for  themselves  what 
manner  of  life  it  might  be  to  which  she  had 
become  addicted. 

"  And  do  you  —  mean  —  to  —  stay  —  here  — 
always"? "  inquired  one,  in  a  series  of  lingual 
bumps  which  she  meant  to  be  impressive. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  McGarvey,  simply. 
"  As  long  as  I  can  be  useful,  perhaps."  A  vision 
of  this  other  woman's  life  rose  up  before  her  —  a 
vulgar  struggle  for  vain  things.  Tender  pity 
filled  her  heart.  "  I  dare  say  it  does  seem  strange 


MRS.    BRAND  241 

to  you,"  she  went  on,  "  but  I  have  no  children,  no 
home  cares  to  fill  my  heart  and  hands.  And  then 
think  of  the  children  here,  whom  no  one  cares  for, 
and  the  poor  mothers  —  and  the  bad  mothers. 
Some  of  them  have  said  to  me  that  they  can  bear 
it  better  —  the  suffering  and  the  poverty  —  if 
they  just  know  that  I  am  here,  near  them,  think- 
ing about  them." 

"  But  how  does  Mr.  McGarvey  stand  it?  " 
"  Stand  it !  "  echoed  Mrs.  McGarvey,  briskly 
snapping  up  the  words  as  they  fell  primly  from 
the  edges  of  her  friend's  thin  lips.  "  He  doesn't 
stand  it.  He  just  rolls  over  and  over  in  it.  I  tell 
you  he's  taken  to  the  politics  of  this  God-forsaken 
ward  just  as  naturally  as  a  saloon-keeper.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  after  a  while  Moon  Street 
gets  some  of  the  paving  done.  There's  been 
enough  money  paid  for  it  already  to  fill  the  street 
with  pavings  up  to  the  second  story." 

These  were  not  the  last  of  such  visitors.  People 
who  had  never  heard  of  Moon  Street,  and  who 
would  not  have  cared  anything  about  it  if  they 
had,  heard  of  Brand  House,  and  came  to  inspect 
it  much  as  they  would  have  done  an  Insane 


242  MRS.    BRAND 

Asylum  or  a  Refuge  for  the  Morally  Obtuse. 
They  were  not  always  civil,  and  sometimes  forgot 
the  respect  due  to  a  private  home.  Some  of  them 
examined  Mrs.  McGarvey  doubtfully,  distantly, 
as  if  she  were  a  magazine  loaded  with  theories 
which  might  suddenly  explode  upon  them. 

"  For  my  part,  I  have  no  faith  in  these  people 
who  start  things  up  on  the  bumblebee  plan,"  she 
overheard  one  lady  remark. 

College  students  and  professors,  clever,  hot- 
headed people,  poor  and  proud  enough  to  choose 
this  means  of  exploiting  themselves  in  a  becoming 
mantle  of  unselfishness,  might  be  expected  to  act 
thus,  but  that  wealthy,  middle-aged  people  like 
this  canny  Scotchman  and  his  wife  should  do  it 
was  inexplicable.  To  take  one's  own  good  con- 
duct as  a  matter  of  course  and  not  of  miracle 
seemed  to  some  of  these  visitors  deplorable,  in- 
deed, and  a  vicious  depriving  of  the  Almighty  of 
the  credit  due  him.  But  Mrs.  McGarvey  did  not 
care. 

As  soon  as  her  visitors  had  departed  that  day 
she  sought  her  husband.  "  Sandy,"  she  began, 
solemnly,  "  she's  going  to  marry  Mr.  Overholt." 


MRS.    BRAND  243 

"Who?"  demanded  the  bewildered  man, 
"  Mrs.  Polkinghorne?  " 

Mrs.  McGarvey  appealed  despairingly  to  the 
ceiling  above  her  as  a  witness  to  this  exhibition  of 
masculine  density.  "  Bless  the  man!  Hasn't  she 
a  husband  of  her  own  now,  not  to  mention  poor 
Drew.  No !  Mrs.  Brand.  She's  going  to  marry 
Mr.  Overholt.  There  now !  What  do  you  think 
of  that?  "  She  swept  him  triumphantly  with 
her  eyes,  and  folded  her  arms,  with  a  fine  effect 
of  resignation  to  the  decrees  of  Providence. 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  anything  of  that  sort 
myself,"  said  Mr.  McGarvey,  slowly,  with  a 
manifest  groping  for  impartial  light,  "  but  it 
would  be  rather  a  nice  arrangement,  wouldn't  it 
now?"  He  smiled  experimentally  at  his  wife's 
Delphic  aspect. 

Mrs.  McGarvey  refreshed  herself  with  a  deep 
groan,  and  then  rushed  with  characteristic  energy 
into  the  task  of  putting  a  point  upon  her  husband's 
blunt  perceptions. 

"  Nice !  Oh,  very  nice !  Especially  for  Dr. 
Challoner !  "  There  was  a  delicate  acidity  in  her 
tones,  which  Mr.  McGarvey  nimbly  detected  as 


244  MRS.    BRAND 

a  species  of  appetizer  to  the  fluent  feast  about  to 
follow. 

"  There,  now,"  he  said,  uneasily,  "  I  had  for- 
gotten his  having  some  little  interest " 

"  Some  little  interest !  Sandy  McGarvey,  to 
think  the  day  should  ever  come  when  I  should 
hear  you  call  the  honest  love  of  a  man's  heart 
'  some  little  interest ! '  " 

"  Perhaps,  my  dear,  it's  not  so  bad  as  you 
think.  When  are  they  to  be  married?  " 

"  Married !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  McGarvey,  with 
the  force  of  a  bursting  bomb.  "  Never,  if  I  can 
help  it.  You  don't  suppose  I'm  going  to  sit 
quietly  down  and  see  that  dear  boy  cheated  out  of 
all  his  rights  by  a  smooth-tongued  trickster." 

"  Oh,  come,  my  dear,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Mc- 
Garvey, gravely.  "  I  really  think  you  would  find 
it  difficult  to  maintain  that  opinion  about  a  man 
like  Mr.  Overholt.  And  if  they  intend  to  get  mar- 
ried, let  me  advise  you  to  keep  out  of  the  affair." 

"  Oh,  yes,  if  they  really  were  going  to  get  mar- 
ried in  the  end." 

Mr.  McGarvey  looked  at  his  wife  hopelessly. 
"  But  you  distinctly  stated  that  Mrs.  Brand  was 


MRS.    BRAND  245 

going  to  marry  Mr.  Overholt,"  he  said,  with  an 
air  of  Christian  patience  in  extremity. 

"Never  mind!"  answered  Mrs.  McGarvey, 
soothingly.  "  A  man  can't  be  expected  to  under- 
stand these  things  like  a  woman.  It's  very  easy 
for  him  to  make  up  his  mind  that  he'll  marry  her, 
but  perhaps  it  won't  be  quite  so  easy  for  him  to 
make  her  make  up  her  mind  that  she'll  marry  him. 
Don't  you  see?" 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  Mr.  McGarvey,  briefly  and 
blindly  as  concerned  Mrs.  Brand  and  her  affairs, 
but  with  a  wide-eyed  perception  of  his  own  and 
his  wife's.  In  argument  she  had  always  shown  a 
preference  for  victory. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MRS.  BRAND  turned  the  wind-swept  corner  west- 
ward in  the  direction  of  Brand  House.  It  was  a 
short  walk  from  the  station  through  a  neighbor- 
hood at  first  respectable,  and  then  growing  more 
and  more  deplorable.  At  first  she  had  been  afraid 
to  come  alone,  but  she  had  travelled  the  ground 
so  many  times  now  that  she  had  lost  her  early 
fears  at  the  clustering  groups  of  dirty  women  and 
sullen  men,  many  of  whom  she  had  learned  to 
know  by  name,  and  better.  Big  Jim  Moriarty, 
who  had  fiercely  resented  the  invasion  by  that 
"  restocratic  gang "  of  the  neighborhood  where 
he  had  hitherto  reigned  undisputed,  had  come  to 
have  a  sulking  liking  for  the  woman  who  was  the 
idol  of  his  crippled  boy's  heart.  Not  that  Mrs. 
Brand  had  designedly  inspired  this  or  any  other 
feeling  in  little  Dan  Moriarty.  She  took  an  inter- 
est in  Trixy,  to  be  sure,  —  "  because  of  her  story," 
she  had  said  prohibitively,  as  if  to  insure  herself 

246 


MRS.    BRAND  247 

against  any  further  extension  of  her  sympathies. 
But  she  could  not  be  long  in  Moon  Street  without 
other  stories  creeping  to  her  ears,  stories  that  made 
her  heart  burn  and  kept  her  awake  at  night  recall- 
ing their  pathetic  details  and  bitter  significance. 
It  had  been  quite  different  in  by-gone  days,  when 
she  had  listened  with  a  critic's  ear  to  Dr.  Chal- 
loner's  fierce  recital  of  those  things.  His  whole- 
souled  indignation  had  been  part  of  it  all,  part  of 
that  picture  which  she  had  studied  with  an  artist's 
appreciation  of  its  light  and  shadow.  But  lately 
she  was  perilously  near  to  losing  her  point  of 
view;  in  fact,  she  was  in  danger  of  becoming  a 
part  of  the  picture  herself,  so  gradually  and 
unconsciously  had  the  circle  of  her  sympathies 
widened.  Little  Dan  Moriarty?  —  oh,  yes,  she 
had  been  kind  to  him. 

"  She  talks  like  her  throat  wuz  sating-lined," 
he  said,  in  a  burst  of  admiration  to  his  father,  who 
would  not  at  that  moment  have  expressed  his  con- 
tempt of  "  sating-lined  throats  "  if  the  fall  of  a 
dynasty  had  depended  on  it. 

It  was  a  wild,  reckless  day.  But  the  very  vio- 
lence of  the  wind-storm  had  tempted  Mrs.  Brand 


248  MRS.    BRAND 

out  into  it,  and  as  she  braced  herself  to  meet  it 
her  spirits  rose  defiantly.  Nearing  the  Glenedge 
station  she  had  come  face  to  face  with  Mr.  Over- 
holt. 

"  Why,  where  are  you  going  in  such  a  wind  as 
this*?  "  he  exclaimed,  in  amazement. 

"  Oh  —  anywhere,  anywhere  out  of  the  world," 
she  laughed  back  at  him. 

"  You  must  mean  Brand  House,  if  it's  to  be 
'  out  of  the  world,'  "  he  said,  coldly.  "  You  can't 
think  how  much  I  object  to  your  going  there.  I 
will  walk  over  to  the  station  with  you,  and  I 
really  think  you  had  better  take  my  arm." 

But  she  walked  on,  her  head  high,  resisting  his 
proffered  aid.  Presently  she  turned  upon  him. 
"  What  right  have  you  to  object  to  my  going  to 
Brand  House4? " 

"  The  right  of  any  real  friend  of  yours,"  he 
replied.  They  had  reached  the  forlornly  deco- 
rative space  surrounding  the  station,  and  without 
question  he  took  her  arm  to  help  her  across  it. 
Through  the  folds  of  her  sleeve  she  felt  the  insist- 
ent pressure  of  his  fingers,  and  of  his  ultimate 


MRS.    BRAND  249 

intention.  "  Will  you  go  into  the  waiting- 
room?  "  he  inquired,  as  he  released  her. 

"  No,  I  hate  to  be  stuffed  in  there  to  be 
stared  at." 

She  straggled  after  him  as  he  sought  out  a  shel- 
tered spot.  "  Don't  trouble  to  wait,"  she  said, 
with  a  polite  air  of  dismissal. 

But  he  remained,  looking  at  her  with  an  easy 
smile.  "  Don't  you  think,"  he  said,  "  that  it's 
rather  like  importing  one's  kitchen-ware  from 
Meissen  when  you  are  used  in  this  species  of 
slumming*?  " 

She  was  tracing  an  elaborate  pattern  on  the 
dusty  platform  with  the  tip  of  her  umbrella,  and 
she  neither  answered  nor  looked  up  at  him,  for 
she  felt  herself  growing  less  able  to  cope  with  him 
in  his  aggressive  moods.  She  was  charming  to 
him  at  these  times,  when  she  let  him  infer  his 
dawning  mastery  of  her.  He  wanted  her  money, 
oh,  yes,  but  that  had  become  quite  secondary  in  its 
allurement  to  the  woman  herself.  He  had  begun 
to  hunger  for  a  sign  in  her  of  a  feeling  towards 
him  answering  to  his  own,  and  as  he  stood  beside 
her  now,  outwardly  calm  and  correct  as  a  man 


250  MRS.    BRAND 

of  the  world  should  be,  his  mind  fermented  with 
a  vision  of  love's  possibilities.  But  the  train  was 
on  time,  and  his  dreams  were  cut  short  by  its 
noisy  advent.  As  he  handed  her  up  the  steps  of 
the  last  car,  he  retained  his  hold  until  he  com- 
pelled her  eyes  to  turn  for  a  moment  to  his. 

So  it  was  little  wonder  that  she  again  exulted  in 
the  frenzy  of  the  storm  as  she  sped  towards  Brand 
House.  It  helped  to  drown  the  inner  uproar. 

"  No,  she  isn't  at  home,  and  she  won't  be  back 
until  late  to-night,"  said  the  young  woman  who 
answered  her  inquiry  for  Mrs.  McGarvey. 

Mrs.  Brand  turned  away  in  deep  disappoint- 
ment. She  had  resolved  at  last  to  take  Mrs. 
McGarvey  into  her  confidence.  Fate  had  evi- 
dently willed  it  otherwise.  She  was  drifting  into 
the  mood  in  which  people  do  what  they  have  long 
struggled  against  with  an  ease  which  seems  at  the 
time  to  justify  their  action. 

Dr.  Challoner  crossing  the  hall  at  that  moment 
caught  sight  of  her  face  as  the  door  closed  upon 
it,  and  in  an  instant  he  was  upon  the  step. 
"  Come  back,"  he  called  after  her.  She  turned 
round,  and  stood  still. 


MRS.    BRAND  251 

"  What  for?  " 

But  the  wind,  catching  her  irresolute,  left  her 
laughing  and  helpless  against  the  fence,  where  Dr. 
Challoner  descended  upon  her,  and,  arbitrarily 
seizing  her,  conducted  her  with  great  strides  in- 
doors, not  relinquishing  his  hold  until  he  planted 
her  firmly  on  a  chair  in  his  office. 

"Horrid  little  hole!"  she  ejaculated,  and 
looked  sniffingly  about  her.  "  One  can  hardly 
breathe  for  bottles." 

"  Oh,  if  you  object "  He  seized  her 

again  and  in  spite  of  protest  hurried  her  away, 
and  made  at  a  rapid  rate  for  the  stairs.  Half- 
way up  they  met  the  young  woman  who  had 
answered  the  door-bell.  She  shrank  back,  trying 
vainly  to  merge  herself  into  the  wall-paper,  and 
when  they  turned  at  the  landing,  she  was  still 
there,  gazing  after  them,  in  blank  perplexity. 

"  Yes,  she's  new,"  said  Dr.  Challoner,  "  and 
plainly  unimaginative."  As  he  spoke  he  ushered 
Mrs.  Brand  into  a  cosy  sitting-room  where  a 
bright  fire  was  crackling  cheerfully  in  a  big,  old- 
fashioned  hearth. 

"  Oh,  Bruin !  "  she  exclaimed,  sinking  weakly 


252  MRS.    BRAND 

into  a  chair.  "  Whatever  has  got  into  you  to- 
day? " 

"Shouldn't  wonder  if  it  was  just  the  pure 
delight  of  seeing  you,"  he  answered,  gaily,  but 
even  as  he  spoke  the  light  faded  out  of  his  eyes. 

Mrs.  Brand  had  taken  off  her  coat,  and  was 
proceeding  at  her  ease  upon  a  tour  of  inspection 
round  the  room.  He  looked  at  her  hungrily.  The 
little  scene  which  he  had  surprised  in  Trixy's 
room  came  back  to  him.  He  stood  still,  remem- 
bering it. 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  he  is !  Gone  into  a  brown 
study,  of  course,  about  bones  or  bacteria,  quite 
regardless  of  the  fact  that  he  has  a  distinguished 
visitor,  and  who  she  is  or  anything  else  about 
her." 

"  No,  not  exactly,"  he  said,  quietly.  A  longing 
came  over  him  to  pour  it  all  out  to  her.  "  I  was 
thinking " 

"  Never  mind  what,"  she  said,  promptly. 
"  Something  tremendous,  of  course,  but  quite  in- 
apropos,  I'm  sure,  or  you  would  never  have  made 
such  horrible  faces  over  it."  As  she  spoke  she 
turned  a  photograph  towards  him.  "  Do  you 


MRS.    BRAND  253 

know,  I  had  quite  forgotten  this  ridiculous  thing." 
It  was  a  photograph  of  herself,  taken  some  years 
before.  One  afternoon  they  had  been  walking  in 
town  together,  and  as  they  had  passed  a  photog- 
rapher's he  had  reproached  her  with  never  having 
given  him  a  photograph.  "  Come  in  now,  and 
you  shall  have  one  taken  to  your  liking,"  she  had 
replied,  and  straightway  they  had  marched  within, 
giggling  like  two  children  in  one  of  those  delight- 
ful lapses  from  dignity  into  which  even  the  most 
Grundy-ground  of  mortals  are  sometimes  be- 
trayed. They  both  laughed  now  at  the  remem- 
brance. 

"  It  really  was  a  nice  photograph,"  said  Mrs. 
Brand,  regarding  it  critically.  "  Don't  you  think 
so,  Bruin?" 

"  I  have  always  liked  it,"  he  answered,  simply. 
Then,  with  an  impetuous  rush  of  words  he  added, 
"  And  I'm  so  glad  nobody  else  has  one  like  it." 

"  Oh,  what  a  grasping  wretch !  "  declared  Mrs. 
Brand,  with  a  light  laugh.  But  there  had  crept 
into  her  eyes  for  a  moment  a  startled  look.  Bruin 
had  never  spoken  to  her  like  that  before.  Of 
course,  he  liked  her  better  than  he  had  ever  given 


254  MRS.    BRAND 

a  sign  of  liking  any  other  woman,  she  knew  that. 
For  a  while,  after  her  return  home,  there  had  been 
a  cloud  between  them,  which  of  late,  to  her  great 
gratification,  had  seemed  to  lift.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary that  he  should  enjoy  her  marriage  to  Mr. 
Overholt,  but  it  was  imperative  that  he  should 
remain  her  friend.  She  set  the  photograph  back 
on  the  mantelpiece  with  a  little  sigh. 

"Oh,  dear!  how  long  ago  that  seems.  We're 
getting  old,  Bruin."  She  sat  down  before  the  fire, 
and  as  she  talked  she  began  unconsciously  massing 
all  her  rings  on  one  finger,  an  old  trick  of  hers  at 
which  he  had  often  laughed.  But  he  watched  her 
slender  hands  now  with  a  hunger  in  his  heart 
which  was  every  moment  more  unendurable.  All 
these  familiar  gestures,  the  multitude  of  imperious 
little  airs  with  which  she  had  always  manipulated 
him,  —  who  could  know  and  love  these  things  in 
her  as  he  did,  just  because  they  were  hers?  And 
who  had  divined  as  he  had  the  yet  unsounded 
depths  of  her  nature,  the  hidden  sweetness  of  it, 
waiting  for  some  magic  touch  to  unseal  it"? 

She  was  talking  about  all  sorts  of  things,  and 
he  found  himself  answering  her  with  a  dull 


MRS.    BRAND  255 

wonder  at  the  double-mindedness  which  sustained 
him  in  his  inner  and  his  outer  role. 

All  at  once  she  held  her  hand  out  to  him. 
"Look!  Just  see  what  I've  done!"  It  was  a 
ring  which  had  gone  willingly  enough  where  it 
did  not  belong,  and  now  refused  to  come  back. 
Mrs.  Brand  was  as  absurdly  frightened  as  a 
woman  always  is  under  such  circumstances. 

Dr.  Challoner  tried  to  draw  it  off,  but  it  would 
not  come.  Then  he  went  into  an  inner  room,  and 
came  back  with  a  bit  of  soap  and  a  damp  towel. 
He  took  her  hand  again,  and  in  a  moment  the  ring 
was  off.  She  dried  her  wet  finger,  and  he  sat 
opposite  her,  slowly  polishing  the  ring.  At  last 
he  looked  up.  "  Which  finger  does  it  belong  to*?  " 
he  asked.  She  had  meant  to  take  it  from  him, 
but  in  answer  to  some  strange  tone  in  his  voice  she 
silently  held  the  finger  towards  him. 

He  leaned  over,  slipping  the  ring  back  in  its 
place.  But  that  done,  he  did  not  let  her  hand  go, 
and  looking  in  his  face  with  a  sudden  thrill  of 
fear,  she  understood. 

"  Oh,  don't,  Bruin,"  she  cried  out.     "  Don't  — 


256  MRS.    BRAND 

you  will  break  my  heart."     It  was  the  last  time 
she  ever  called  him  Bruin. 

"  But  I  shall,"  he  said.  "  I  have  a  right  to 
love  you."  He  dropped  her  hand  and  rose  up, 
tall  and  strong  before  her.  She  rose,  too,  and 
they  stood  confronting  each  other,  she  with  her 
face  pale,  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  he  with  his 
brain  swayed  by  his  urgent  heart.  "  Can't  you 
see  it  had  to  be"?  I  know  that  I  have  always  loved 
you.  When  it  seems  less  strange  —  when  you 
have  had  time  to  think  about  it " 

But  she  shook  her  head.  "  No,  no,  Arthur. 
You  are  the  best  friend  that  I  have  in  the  world, 
but  I  don't  love  anybody.  I  never  shall." 

"  Ah,  wait !  "  he  exclaimed,  eagerly.  "  I  would 
have  said  that,  too,  not  long  ago.  If  you  will 
only  let  me  love  you  —  it  will  come  to  you,  too." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  miserably.  "  Don't  you 
see  how  it  is"?  You  only  marry  a  person  whose 
friendship  you  will  lose  if  you  don't."  She 
laughed  dismally. 

"  Will  you  marry  a  man  on  that  ground?  "  he 
asked,  quickly.  She  hesitated.  She  was  thinking 
of  things  remote,  which  her  own  remark  had  sug- 


MRS.    BRAND  257 

gested  to  her.  "  Because  if  you  will,  you  had 

better  marry  me,  for  I  swear Oh,  Cecily," 

his  voice  broke  in  appeal.  He  could  not  argue 
it  with  her.  His  heart  was  in  too  helpless  a 
tumult. 

But  an  impatient  sense  of  injury  stirred  Mrs. 
Brand.  A  new,  miserable  complication  had  arisen 
to  buffet  her.  That  Arthur  should  act  so  —  good 
sensible  Arthur  —  it  was  too  trying.  For  she 
realized  his  sincerity  only  too  well.  She  could  not 
possibly  doubt  that  he  loved  her,  and  she  shrank 
from  the  thought  of  the  suffering  before  him  as  if 
it  were  destined  for  herself. 

"  Why  have  you  done  this*?  "  she  demanded  of 
him,  in  futile  remonstrance. 

"Great  Csesar!"  he  exclaimed.  "Do  you 
think  I  like  it?" 

Turning  away  from  him  in  utter  wretchedness 
she  began  to  draw  on  her  coat.  "  It's  getting  late ; 
I  must  go  home." 

He  watched  her  silently,  until  the  last  button 
on  her  glove  was  fastened.  Then  he  went  over 
to  her.  "  Is  this  the  last,  Cecily?  Are  you  really 
going  away  from  me,  out  of  my  life?  "  His  voice 


258  MRS.    BRAND 

was  hoarse,  and  his  face,  always  so  strong  and 
eager  in  its  outlook  upon  the  world,  was  haggard. 

"  The  end4?  Why,  of  course  not.  How  could 
it  be?  You  will  soon  think  so  differently.  Don't 

you  see,  Arthur "  She  looked  appealingly 

into  his  eyes  with  the  feeling  for  him  in  her  heart 
that  a  mother  has  for  her  child  and  it's  hurt. 
Why  should  a  man  take  such  pains  to  seek  delib- 
erately his  own  undoing?  But  her  tenderness 
was  short-lived,  for  with  the  touch  of  her  light 
hand  upon  his  arm  she  had  wakened  into  mastery 
feelings  over  which  for  the  moment  he  had  no 
control,  and  suddenly  she  found  herself  in  his 
arms,  those  strong  arms  that  held  her  like  a  vise, 
with  his  kisses  on  her  lips,  kisses  which  fell 
fiercely  upon  them  more  like  blows  than  caresses. 
And  then  as  suddenly  as  he  had  taken  her  to  him- 
self he  released  her,  saying  roughly,  "  I  will  take 
you  to  your  train." 

But  she  faced  him  indignantly.  "  How  dared 
you " 

"How  dared  I"?  You  bet  I  dared.  A  man 
doesn't  need  to  figure  out  that  there  are  some 


MRS.    BRAND  259 

things  he  can  have  for  the  taking,  but  not  for  the 
asking." 

"  I  will  not  walk  to  the  train  with  you,"  she 
cried. 

But  he  only  replied,  coolly,  "  Yes,  you  will." 
And  she  did. 

The  storm  seemed  to  have  increased  in  violence, 
and  once  outside  she  was  meekly  submissive  to 
the  strength  which  protected  her.  There  were 
critical  corners  to  be  turned,  where  she  clung  to  him 
tightly,  glad  enough,  too,  of  his  firm  grasp  of  her. 
They  went  along  in  silence.  At  the  station  he 
found  her  train,  and  a  comfortable  seat  for  her, 
but  when  she  turned  to  bid  him  good-bye  with  a 
politely  neutral  air,  he  was  gone.  He  passed  the 
window  without  looking  up,  and  she  followed  him 
with  her  eyes  across  the  platform  towards  the  steps 
with  an  added  sense  of  outrage  at  his  wantonly 
abrupt  desertion  of  her. 

Long  afterwards  Dr.  Challoner  wondered  how 
he  reached  home  that  evening,  but  his  memory 
made  no  response  to  his  demands  upon  it.  Hours 
later  he  came  to  a  miserable  consciousness  of  him- 
self, alone  in  the  gathered  darkness,  staring  into 


260  MRS.    BRAND 

the  whitening  embers  of  the  fire  which  seemed 
to  him  like  his  own  dulled  soul,  whence  all  the 
radiance  of  energy  and  enthusiasm  had  gone.  By 
degrees  his  misery  defined  itself  more  clearly  to 
him;  he  began  to  grope  after  details.  His 
thoughts  went  back  in  bitter  retrospect  to  those 
early  days  of  perfect  harmony  and  ideal  inter- 
change of  sympathy  between  himself  and  Mrs. 
Brand,  which  might  so  easily  have  deepened  into 
that  other  and  most  sacred  form  of  friendship. 
"  My  wife !  My  wife !  She  might  have  been 
that;  she  would  have  been  that,"  he  repeated,  in 
desolate  alternations  of  despair.  But  to  feel  that 
each  moment  bore  her  on  a  retreating  tide  —  away 
from  him  —  whither*?  Alas !  he  knew  too  well. 

The  weak  spot  in  her  —  yes,  he  was  aware  of 
it,  but  he  had  not  loved  her  because  he  thought 
her  perfect. 

He  was  familiar  enough  with  the  sight  and 
sound  of  physical  suffering,  but  agony  of  this  kind 
was  new  and  strange  to  him. 

Through  the  long  night,  when  the  wind  had 
sunk  into  silence,  Mrs.  McGarvey  heard  and 


MRS.    BRAND  261 

grieved  over  the  pacing  of  the  feet  above  her 
head. 

When  the  first  red  streaks  of  dawn  flushed  the 
sky  he  crossed  to  his  window,  and  watched  the 
warm  glow  of  the  East  spreading  itself  over  the 
sky.  The  stars  paled  before  the  approaching  sun ; 
the  shadows  of  the  night  slunk  out  of  sight.  And 
with  this  new  day  there  dawned  for  him  a  nobler 
mood.  His  work!  Perhaps  it  needed  from  him 
a  yet  deeper  consecration  —  an  entirety  of  self- 
surrender  of  which  he  had  as  yet  but  little  concep- 
tion. These  poor  brethren  of  his,  into  whose 
drink-cursed,  crime-stained  lives  he  had  come  with 
sympathy  and  with  belief  in  better  things  for 
them  —  in  this  extremity  of  his  own  bitterness  his 
mind  turned  to  them  with  a  consciousness  of  their 
claims  on  him  in  far  vistas  of  opportunity. 

But  nothing  could  blot  out  for  him  the  memory 
of  those  never-to-be-regretted  moments  when  he 
had  held  her  in  his  arms. 

The  days  that  followed  were  days  of  much  per- 
plexity to  Mrs.  Brand,  not  that  she  suffered  from 
doubts  as  to  her  ultimate  course,  but  she  found  her- 
self unable  to  arrange  a  future  which  should  har- 


262  MRS.    BRAND 

moniously  include  Dr.  Challoner,  whom  she  still 
felt  to  be  a  necessity.  She  wrote  to  him  a  good 
many  times  asking  him  to  come  and  see  her,  but 
she  destroyed  the  notes  before  the  ink  on  them  was 
dry.  For  she  could  not  think  what  she  should  say 
to  him  after  he  should  have  come.  So  it  was  quite 
by  accident  that  she  encountered  him  one  morning 
in  a  crowded  store,  where  he  was  searching  the 
book  counter.  She  was  not  aware  of  his  proximity 
to  her  until  she  heard  some  one  say,  "  There's  Dr. 
Challoner!  Now  you  can  take  a  good  look  at 
him.  Isn'  the  a  fine-looking  fellow  ?"  She  turned 
a  critical  eye  upon  the  two  young  women  behind 
her  "  stylish,  pert  creatures,"  she  decided  aus- 
terely, and  then  after  a  moment  of  irresolution  she 
crossed  over  and  spoke  to  him.  He  looked  around 
at  her  without  surprise,  for  he  had  seen  her  some 
minutes  before. 

"Can  I  speak  to  you  presently"?"  she  asked, 
not  without  a  sudden  trepidation,  for  there  was 
in  his  manner  a  certain  aloofness,  a  detachment 
from  her  and  her  interests  which  immediately 
impressed  her. 

"  Certainly,"  he  replied,  with  an  air  of  distant 


MRS.    BRAND 

deference  to  her  wishes,  which  she  thought  odd, 
"  if  you  will  wait  one  moment  until  they  bring  my 
book." 

She  lingered  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd  until  he 
appeared  slowly  making  his  way  out  of  it.  "  Let 
us  go  to  the  balcony  on  the  second  floor,"  she  said, 
as  they  started  off,  aimlessly.  "  One  can  nearly 
always  find  a  quiet  spot  there." 

But  once  there  she  wondered  a  little  wildly 
what  was  to  come  next,  for  Dr.  Challoner  looked 
steadily  in  front  of  him  with  an  evident  inten- 
tion of  silence  which  she  found  most  embarrass- 
ing. It  really  seemed  to  her  that  if  she  was  willing 
to  overlook  his  action  he  ought  at  least  to 
evince  some  anxiety  about  it.  To  be  quite  honest, 
she  had  found  difficulty  in  convincing  herself  of 
her  own  magnanimity,  for  though  she  had  labored 
to  induce  a  sense  of  outrage  over  those  kisses,  her 
efforts  had  always  ended  in  a  smile  of  which  she 
tried  to  remain  morally  unconscious.  After  all, 
it  had  only  been  Arthur. 

But  it  was  not  right  of  him  to  sit  there  so  indif- 
ferent to  the  indignation  he  might  justly  expect 
from  her.  "  If  you  haven't  anything  to  say  to 


264  MRS.    BRAND 

me,  Arthur,"  she  began,  in  desperation  at  his 
silence,  "  we  really  need  not  prolong  —  " 

"  Are  you  going  to  marry  Overholt1? "  he 
inquired,  with  paralyzing  directness. 

"  What  business  is  that  of  yours?  "  she  asked, 
stung  into  challenge  by  this  unexpected  forcing 
of  her  hand. 

He  looked  at  her  steadily,  almost  contemptu- 
ously, for  a  moment.  Then  he  turned  from  her 
with  a  fierce  gesture.  "It's  the  money  —  that 
accursed  money,"  she  heard  him  say. 

"  I  think  you  assume  a  great  deal  in  your  igno- 
rance," she  said,  hotly.  "  If  it  was  merely  a  ques- 
tion of  money  with  me  there  are  other  men  I  might 
marry  besides  Mr.  Overholt." 

"  Not  me,"  he  said  coolly.  "  I'd  never  take 
you  with  such  a  string  as  that  tied  to  you." 

She  was  furious,  especially  as  she  knew  per- 
fectly the  truth  of  what  he  said.  She  made  a 
movement  to  rise.  But  Dr.  Challoner  had  some- 
thing further  on  his  mind.  "  Wait  a  moment," 
he  said;  "  there  is  another  thing  I  want  to  say.  I 
should  never  forgive  myself  if  I  did  not  ask  you 
—  if  I  did  not  warn  you  against  the  future  you 


MRS.    BRAND  265 

are  choosing."  He  spoke  severely,  judicially;  it 
was  his  only  protection  against  the  misery  of  his 
position.  He  must,  cost  what  it  might  of  his  own 
slender  store  of  peace,  tell  her  what  he  could, 
that  he  might  not  have  to  reproach  himself  with 
her  probable  unhappiness.  Surgeon  as  he  was, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  called  upon  to  pre- 
side at  his  own  dissection,  for  every  moment  of 
this  interview  was  torture  to  him. 

"  There  are  things  I  know  and  things  I  suspect 
about  Mr.  Overholt  which  I  am  not  able  to  tell 
you  of.  But  they  are  serious  enough  for  you  to 
put  an  end  to  this  matter  before  it  goes  any 
farther." 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  irresistible,  little 
smile. 

"  It  is  too  bad  you  can  not  tell  me  what  these 
unspeakable  things  are;  I  should  appreciate  some- 
thing a  little  more  definite." 

"  Can't  you  understand  that  I  may  have  knowl- 
edge about  which  my  conscience  will  not  let  me 
speak4? " 

"  No,  I  can  not,"  she  answered,  obstinately. 
"  I  have  no  sympathy  for  the  affectation  which 


266  MRS.    BRAND 

shuts  your  lips  at  a  time  that  you  pretend  to  con- 
sider so  serious  a  crisis  for  me." 

Dr.  Challoner  rose  from  his  seat.  "  Is  your 
carriage  waiting  for  you"?  May  I  see  you  to  it?  " 
he  asked,  in  a  manner  suggestive  of  utter  remote- 
ness of  interest  between  them.  As  he  was  about 
to  close  the  carriage-door,  he  paused  a  moment, 
leaning  forward,  his  foot  upon  the  step.  "  Do 
you  call  yourself  a  good  woman*?  " 

"I"?  Oh,  no,  certainly  not.  Seriously,  no.  I 
cannot  imagine  anything  more  stupid." 

She  faced  him  with  defiance  of  manner  and 
pose,  and  that  was  the  memory  of  her  which  he 
bore  away. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WITH  her  conscious  ability  for  playing  Provi- 
dence in  other  people's  lives,  Mrs.  McGarvey 
found  these  days  a  weary  drag  upon  her  patience, 
and  she  was  nearly  driven  to  suspect  a  mortifying 
lack  of  omniscence  in  herself.  Mrs.  Brand  had 
not  been  to  see  her  for  some  weeks,  and  as  for 
Dr.  Challoner  —  she  had  never  known  him  so 
unapproachable.  At  last  she  could  bear  it  no 
longer. 

"  Why  doesn't  Mrs.  Brand  come  here  any 
more"?  "  she  asked  him,  one  day. 

"Mrs.  Brand4?  Oh,  I  don't  know."  But  a 
moment  later  he  added,  with  reluctant  honesty, 
"  Yes,  I  do,"  and  then  was  silent. 

"  Can't  you  tell  me  what's  gone  wrong  with 
you  both,  laddie*?  "  she  asked,  with  a  broadening 
of  her  heart  and  accent  to  his  sorrows.  "  Some- 
times an  old  woman  can  help  a  bit.  It's  the  min- 
ister, I  know,  who's  making  all  the  trouble."  She 

267 


268  MRS.    BRAND 

nodded  her  head  at  him  with  ponderous  sagacity, 
and  in  spite  of  his  instinctive  dread  of  sympathy 
he  said  with  a  forlorn  smile,  "  How  did  you  get 
on  to  that4?" 

"  Eyes  and  ears,"  she  replied,  tersely.  "  I  war- 
rant you  I  know  a  good  many  things  that  you'd 
be  the  better  for  knowing  yourself.  Have  you 
ever  asked  her  to  marry  you*?  " 

Dr.  Challoner  hesitated.  "  I  don't  know,"  he 
said  slowly.  "  She  knows  I  love  her." 

"  Now  does  she,  really"?  "  said  Mrs.  McGar- 
vey,  with  an  inspiring,  little  nip  in  her  voice. 
"  However  did  she  find  that  out?  " 

"  Because  I  told  her,"  he  retorted,  stoutly, 
aware  of  the  insidious  attack  that  was  being  made 
upon  him. 

"  Dear  me !  "  remarked  Mrs.  McGarvey,  in  an 
innocent,  meditative  tone.  Then  with  sudden 
alacrity,  "Once?" 

"Once  —  and  why  not  once?"  asked  Dr. 
Challoner,  with  a  fiery  eye  upon  her. 

"  How  often  has  Mr.  Overholt  asked  her,  I 
wonder." 

"  That  miserable  hound !  " 


MRS.    BRAND  269 

"  Yes,  that's  just  what  he  is,"  said  Mrs.  McGar- 
vey,  "  but  I  think  it's  likely  he  knows  a  thing  or 
two  about  the  business  he's  in."  She  looked  at 
Dr.  Challoner  with  shrewd  kindly  eyes.  "  A 
woman  likes  to  be  won,"  she  remarked,  sugges- 
tively. 

Dr.  Challoner  kicked  the  table  leg  viciously. 
"  Well,  that's  all  no  use  now." 

"Why1?" 

"  Because  she  is  going  to  marry  him." 

"  Has  she  told  you  so?  " 

"  I  guess  so,"  he  said,  wearily.  "  Don't  you 
see  there  was  never  any  chance  for  me.  Mr.  Over- 
holt  is  the  man  her  husband  intended  her  to  marry 
—  "  such  a  remarkable  expression  made  its  ap- 
pearance on  Mrs.  McGarvey's  countenance  that 
he  paused  abruptly  for  an  explanation  of  it. 

"  No,"  she  protested  vehemently,  "  no,  my  dear 
lad,  it  was  you  that  he  meant." 

Dr.  Challoner  laughed.  "  But  Uncle  John 
told  me  so  himself,  and  Mrs.  Brand  knows  that," 
he  said,  with  an  amused  perception  of  the  fact 
that  he  was  evidently  cutting  Mrs.  McGarvey's 
most  cherished  theories  to  pieces  before  her  eyes. 


270  MRS.    BRAND 

She  looked  the  picture  of  despair,  but  after  a  few 
terrible  moments  she  rallied  bravely.  "  I  simply 
wouldn't  bear  it,"  she  declared,  belligerently. 

"I  must,"  he  said,  quietly.  "You  see  she 
knows  that  I  would  never  marry  her  under  those 
conditions.  I  don't  want  my  wife  to  be  my  pat- 
roness. If  she  ever  came  to  me  she  would  have 
to  let  all  that  go." 

"  You  expect  a  great  deal.  You  expect  a 
woman  to  give  up  the  luxuries  and  habits  that 
have  become  second  nature  to  her,  and  what 
do  you  offer  in  return*?  " 

"What  do  I  offer  in  return?"  he  repeated, 
vehemently.  "  The  best  that  any  man  can  ever 
give  to  any  woman,  something  never  bought  or 
sold  in  the  market-place." 

Mrs.  McGarvey  sighed.  "  Dear  lad,  I  will  not 
quarrel  with  you  any  more."  She  looked  at  him 
with  her  eyes  full  of  tears.  The  discipline  of  life 
—  was  it  a  good  thing?  At  this  moment  she  re- 
belliously  thought  not.  "  It's  all  very  well  to  talk 
about  developing  character,  but  this  will  leave  a 
hard  spot  in  his  heart  where  there  ought  to  be  a 
tender  —  the  most  tender." 


MRS.    BRAND  271 

"  Happiness  —  "  she  began. 

Dr.  Challoner  broke  in  impatiently,  "  Happi- 
ness^ Is  there  such  a  thing  as  mere  happiness*? 
No.  It's  all  a  question  of  character."  Hard  lines 
came  and  went  about  his  mouth  as  his  face  fol- 
lowed the  workings  of  his  mind.  But  all  at  once 
it  softened  pathetically;  his  eyes  glowed  mistily. 
"  Ah,  if  you  knew  her  as  I  do  —  no,  I  don't  mean 
her  faults  —  I  mean  all  that  she  really  is  and 
could  be  if  she  would  only  give  herself  a  chance. 
But  she  has  never  had  any.  Her  life  has  been  so 
warped  and  blunted.  Poor  child !  She  has  never 
had  a  taste  of  the  real  sweetness  of  life,  and  so 
she  has  nothing  of  comparison.  And  that  man 
—  think  of  her  life  with  him.  What  will  it  be"? 
What  does  he  care  for  all  the  hidden  beauty  and 
charm  of  her  character?  With  Mr.  Brand  her 
life  must  have  been  one  of  studied  repression; 
with  Mr.  Overholt  she  will  be  forced  to  the  most 
tragic  expression  of  herself.  And  think  of  it  —  " 
he  clenched  his  hands  until  the  one  left  cruel 
marks  upon  the  other  —  "  think  of  the  things  —  " 
he  stopped,  shaking  his  head  in  despair. 

"  What?      Things    you    know    about   him? " 


MRS.    BRAND 

Mrs.  McGarvey  had  the  avidity  of  a  carrion- 
crow  where  Mr.  Overholt  was  concerned. 

"  No,  not  things  that  I  can  absolutely  say  I 
know,  but  things  I  suspect  —  things  I  myself  am 
sure  of,  in  fact.  And  yet  I  must  not  tell  her," 
he  exclaimed,  passionately. 

"  But,  dear  lad,  you  must  tell  her.  You  are 
doing  wrong,"  said  Mrs.  McGarvey,  in  real 
alarm. 

"  No,  I  am  not,"  he  replied,  firmly.  "  I  have 
argued  it  all  out  with  myself  over  and  over.  No 
man's  home  would  be  safe  if  a  physician  were 
privileged  to  use  outside  of  it  the  knowledge  he 
gains  in  it  under  extraordinary  circumstances.  I 
have  warned  her  —  I  can  not  do  more.  And  she 
knows  enough."  He  fell  silent,  and  Mrs.  McGar- 
vey abandoned  herself  to  utter  wretchedness. 

At  last  he  got  up,  and  stood  for  a  moment,  halt- 
ing, irresolute,  and  when  he  spoke  it  seemed  more 
to  himself  than  to  her,  the  words  dropping  in 
strange,  uneven  groups  as  if  forced  from  him  by 
some  external  pressure. 

"  To  think  that  I  know  what  would  forever 


MRS.    BRAND  273 

separate  —  her  from  him  —  and  I  dare  not,  must 
not,  will  not  tell  her." 

But  Mrs.  Brand  had  not  yet  yielded  to  the 
thought  of  inevitable  separation  between  herself 
and  Dr.  Challoner.  She  clung  persistently  to  the 
belief  that  by  some  potent  effect  of  her  personality 
she  could  unite  the  inharmonious  elements  about 
her  in  a  yoke  of  mutual  toleration  for  her  benefit. 
Sometimes  she  found  herself  wondering  why  she 
cared  so  much  about  Dr.  Challoner's  friendship. 
She  had  never  considered  seriously  his  desire  to 
marry  her.  She  knew  his  mental  outlook  thor- 
,  oughly,  and  some  of  the  things  that  she  valued 
most  were  contemptible  trifles  to  him;  there  could 
be  no  harmonious  adjustment  of  marital  interests 
with  such  a  basis  as  that. 

So  it  happened  that  Dr.  Challoner  one  day 
received  a  note  from  Mrs.  Brand  asking  him  to 
call  and  see  her  as  soon  as  he  had  an  opportunity 
of  doing  so.  His  first  impulse  was  vehemently 
negative  to  any  such  proposal,  and  yet  he  ended 
by  succumbing  to  her  request,  for  it  seemed  to 
indicate  that  there  yet  remained  a  loop-hole 
through  which  he  might  help  her  to  escape. 


274,  MRS.    BRAND 

With  the  coming  of  the  warm  weather  there 
had  been  a  great  deal  of  sickness  in  Moon  Street, 
and  it  was  at  the  close  of  a  long,  weary  day  that 
had  made  heavy  drafts  upon  his  sympathies  that 
he  found  himself  at  liberty. 

Mrs.  Brand  received  him  with  a  constraint  that 
savored  of  embarrassment,  and  instantly  he  per- 
ceived Mr.  Overholt  lounging  easily  on  a  chair  at 
the  end  of  the  room. 

"  Aha,  doctor !  "  the  minister  exclaimed,  aff- 
ably. "  How  are  you  getting  along  in  your  part 
of  the  world,  or  the  Moon,  perhaps  I  should  say"?  " 

"Oh,  don't  talk  about  Moon  Street,"  inter- 
posed Mrs.  Brand,  abruptly.  "  It  really  isn't  in 
your  line."  She  felt  a  quick  resentment  at  Mr. 
Overholt's  air  of  pleasant  patronage. 

But  he  only  laughed  —  such  a  charming  laugh, 
the  echo  of  happy  fancies  in  his  brain,  perhaps. 
"Ah,  indeed!  Well,  I  suppose  I  must  pay  for 
my  privileges  by  a  graceful  submission  to  snubs 
now  and  then,"  he  said  with  an  air  of  gay  hom- 
age. But  Mrs.  Brand  was  not  listening.  She 
was  wondering  desperately  how  to  disentangle  this 
three-stranded  snarl.  From  Mr.  Overholt  she 


MRS.    BRAND  275 

need  expect  no  assistance;  she  supposed  he  was 
laughing  in  his  sleeve  at  her  now.  And  Dr.  Chal- 
loner"? —  at  that  moment  she  impatiently  con- 
ceived of  him  as  a  kind  of  mathematician  to  her 
conscience,  perpetually  haunting  her  with  his  per- 
pendicular theories  of  right  and  wrong.  She  was 
tired  of  it  all ;  she  wished  that  she  could  escape  to 
some  still  corner  of  the  earth  where  there  were  no 
problems  to  be  answered  and  no  men  to  propound 
them. 

But  Dr.  Challoner  saved  her  from  the  odium 
of  initiative.  "  You  sent  for  me  to  come  and  see 
you.  If  it  can  be  arranged  I  should  like  to  see 
you  now,  alone.  If  not,  the  matter  had  better  be 
dropped,  for  I  happen  to  be  exceedingly  busy." 
His  voice  sounded  to  himself  as  if  it  reached  him 
externally  from  some  great  distance,  but  to  the 
hearers  it  had  no  such  quality.  Mr.  Overholt 
with  pleasantly  quickening  pulses  straightened 
himself  in  his  seat,  and  looked  curiously  at  Mrs. 
Brand.  He  considered  the  situation  attractive, 
and  he  meant  to  maintain  himself  impervious  to 
anything  less  than  a  direct  request  from  her  to 
withdraw. 


276  MRS.    BRAND 

But  Mrs.  Brand  threw  her  head  back  in  the 
light,  lofty  poise  which  each  man  knew  so  well, 
for  her  evil  star  was  in  the  ascendant,  and  was 
impelling  her  to  the  utmost  defiance  in  thought 
and  speech.  Arthur  —  to  speak  to  her  like  that, 
and  before  Mr.  Overholt!  Instantly  she  faced 
him,  pale  and  breathless.  "  Thank  you,  perhaps 
that  will  be  better.  I  am  sorry  to  have  troubled 
you  about  a  thing  that  is,  after  all,  of  no  conse- 
quence." 

Dr.  Challoner  had  presumed  to  consider  him- 
self under  admirable  control,  but  he  had  not  bar- 
gained for  just  this  method  of  being  dealt  with, 
and  there  was  nothing  in  his  mental  equipment 
that  responded  to  it  harmoniously.  Without  a 
word,  without  even  the  courtesy  of  a  parting  ges- 
ture of  the  briefest  sort,  he  turned  and  left  the 
room. 

For  a  few  moments  after  he  left  them  Mr.  Over- 
holt  and  Mrs.  Brand  sat  silent.  Then  she  sud- 
denly turned  towards  him.  Had  she  seen  in  his 
face  the  slightest  trace  of  amusement  it  would 
probably  have  been  a  serious  matter  for  him,  but 
the  lissom  lines  of  his  ready-made  countenance 


MRS.    BRAND  277 

expressed  the  most  delicate  adjustment  to  her 
mood.  He  looked  at  her  patiently,  seriously. 
Then  he  said  with  the  utmost  moderation  of  tone 
and  manner,  "  I  wish  I  might  shield  you  forever 
from  such  trials  as  these." 

The  reckless  impetus  that  had  forced  her  into 
one  crisis  had  not  yet  exhausted  its  momentum. 
"  I  think  you  may,"  she  answered,  in  the  same 
breathless  way  in  which  she  had  spoken  to  Dr. 
Challoner. 

For  a  moment  Mr.  Overholt  looked  at  her 
with  an  almost  dazed  expression.  Then  he  bent 
over  her.  "  My  darling,  do  you  mean  this"?  "  he 
asked  tenderly,  drawing  her  towards  him. 
Though  she  yielded  to  the  ardor  of  his  caresses 
without  other  feeling  than  that  they  were  some- 
thing that  she  must  accept  as  inevitable,  Mr. 
Overholt  was  not  likely  to  find  her  passivity  a 
flaw  just  then,  and  yet  when  he  released  her, 
her  eyes  were  full  of  tears  —  tears  which  he 
pressed  gently  away  from  her  face  with  whispered 
words  of  endearment,  for  he  was  quite  at  home  in 
the  character  Fate  had  assigned  to  him. 

But  in  the  middle  of  that  night  she  awoke  sob- 


278  MRS.    BRAND 

bing  from  a  dream,  and  for  the  first  few  moments 
while  her  memory  quivered  in  the  borderland  of 
sleep,  she  shivered  with  terror.  She  was  alone, 
clinging  desperately  to  a  rock  in  a  waste  of  waters, 
from  which  a  hand  was  stretched  to  clutch  her, 
a  hand  she  knew,  small  and  white.  By  degrees 
she  remembered  an  old  parlor  print,  the  nearest 
approach  to  "  art  "  that  had  been  permitted  upon 
the  walls  of  Aunt  Lavinia's  domestic  Zion.  She 
meant  to  laugh  about  it,  but  instead  of  that  she 
began  to  sob  again  hysterically. 

Mrs.  Brand  did  not  see  Dr.  Challoner  for  some 
time,  not  until  she  met  him  one  day  as  she  was 
leaving  Trixy's  room.  He  held  the  door  open  for 
her  to  enter,  but  there  was  no  further  greeting 
between  them  than  the  formal  bow  which  Trixy 
observed  with  amazement.  The  girl  lay  back 
upon  her  pillows  exhausted  from  a  long  fit  of 
coughing,  and  Mrs.  Brand  moved  gently  about 
the  room  attending  to  its  various  details,  and  re- 
arranging some  flowers.  When  at  last  she  sat 
down  beside  Trixy,  she  saw  that  her  eyes  were 
full  of  resentful  interrogation. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Trixy?  "  she  asked,  not 


MRS.    BRAND  279 

without  poignant  anticipation,  for  if  Trixy  had  a 
grievance  to  present  it  would  not  come  wrapped 
in  cotton  wool.  And  yet  that  was  one  of  the  girl's 
particular  attractions  to  her. 

"  What  makes  you  so  mean  to  him*?  "  she  asked 
bluntly. 

Mrs.  Brand  stared  at  her  in  silence  with  a 
straightening  of  her  lips  and  a  distinct  set-back 
of  her  shoulders  which  had,  however,  not  the  least 
effect  on  Trixy. 

"  I'm  just  going  to  tell  you  all  about  it.  You 
don't  suppose  I've  been  lying  here  all  this  time 
watching  you  two,  and  never  thinking  anything 
about  it.  Why,  it's  just  all  I've  cared  anything 
about.  And  then  when  you  go  and  act  like  you 
did  just  now  I  cannot  bear  it,  that's  all.  If  ever 
man  loved  woman  he  loves  you,  Mrs.  Brand.  Ah, 
not  with  the  kind  of  love  that  he  loved  me  with. 
No !  No !  "  Bitter  tears  streamed  down  Trixy's 
face,  and  in  a  strange  tumult  of  feeling  Mrs. 
Brand  leaned  over,  and  wiped  them  away.  "  Has 
he  ever  asked  you  to  marry  him4?  "  Trixy  asked 
in  a  whisper. 

"  Yes,   Trixy,   but   I   can't,"    answered   Mrs. 


280  MRS.    BRAND 

Brand.  How  outrageous  she  would  have  thought 
it  a  year  before  to  be  sharing  her  confidences  with 
a  girl  like  this,  but  sympathy  is  a  subtle  leveller, 
and  these  two  natures  struck  many  chords  in  uni- 
son. A  sudden  rage  possessed  Trixy.  She  tossed 
Mrs.  Brand's  hand  off  the  coverlet.  "  How  can 
you  be  so  cruel*?"  she  said  passionately,  and 
before  Mrs.  Brand  could  explain  with  dignity, 
that  there  were  the  most  conclusive  reasons  why 
she  could  not  marry  Dr.  Challoner,  the  girl  went 
on  vehemently:  "  How  can  you  hurt  anyone  who 
loves  you  like  that"?  It  is  wicked.  You  don't 
know  anything  about  it,  but  I  know.  His  love 
would  make  you  good,  not  bad  like  mine  made 
me."  She  was  speaking  with  an  intensity  of  feel- 
ing that  Mrs.  Brand  had  never  seen  in  her  before. 
"  Ah,  you  don't  know,  you  don't  know.  You 
never  lay  awake  all  through  the  long  night  in  a 
black  horror  to  think  what  you  are  now,  and  what 
you  might  have  been  such  a  little  while  before. 
You  never  longed  and  prayed  and  begged  for 
something  to  happen  that  would  somehow  take  it 
all  away  from  you  —  the  shame  of  it  all.  You 
never  fell  asleep  and  dreamed  that  you  were  a 


MRS.    BRAND  281 

happy  child  again,  and  then  woke  to  find  the  terror 
of  it  nearer  to  you  than  it  was  when  you  fell 
asleep."  Her  voice  sank  to  an  agonized  whisper, 
and  she  turned  her  face  away,  her  poor,  thin  body 
shaken  like  a  reed  in  the  storm  of  remembrance. 
After  a  moment  Mrs.  Brand  reached  over  and 
touched  her  hand.  The  feeling  of  lofty  resent- 
ment that  she  had  for  some  moments  felt  —  how 
petty  it  seemed  in  sight  of  this  poor  child's  misery. 

Trixy  lay  silent.  That  this  beautiful  woman 
with  the  unsullied  dignity  of  her  name  and  place 
should  stoop  to  clasp  her  sin-stained  hand  with 
the  tender  touch  of  sympathy  had  always  been  to 
her  a  mystery  —  a  mystery  whose  precious  leaven 
was  gradually  transforming  her  entire  nature. 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  for  a  long  time. 
Trixy  evidently  wished  for  quiet.  Mrs.  Brand 
was  busy  with  her  own  thoughts,  but  after  a  while 
her  mind  reverted  to  the  bitter  story  of  which  she 
had  had  a  closer  glimpse  to-day  than  ever  before. 
Sometimes  she  had  felt  sure  that  the  girl  wished 
to  speak  to  her  about  it.  The  subject  had  seemed 
too  full  of  difficulty  to  be  rashly  approached. 
But  to-day,  perhaps,  there  had  come  to  her  an 


282  MRS.    BRAND 

opportunity  that  might  never  recur,  and  which  if 
wisely  directed  might  be  the  means  of  freeing  this 
fleeting  soul  of  some  of  its  burden. 

"  Trixy,"  she  said  gently,  "  you  and  I  have  been 
friends  a  long  time  now,  but  you  have  never  told 
me  anything  about  that.  Isn't  there  anything 
you  would  like  to  tell  me'?  " 

Mrs.  Brand  was  busy  dressing  a  doll  for  a  sick 
child  in  the  room  above.  She  had  dressed  a  good 
many  dolls  since  she  first  knew  Trixy,  for  their 
outfits  had  been  an  unceasing  source  of  interest 
to  the  girl,  whose  instinct  in  the  matter  of  dress 
had  been  one  of  her  most  fatal  charms. 

"  I  guess  that  bonnet  had  better  be  shirred," 
she  said  now  to  Mrs.  Brand,  "  and  if  you  give  her 
up  to  me  I'd  like  to  fix  that  sash."  Her  thin, 
trembling  fingers  had  lost  none  of  their  inborn 
cunning,  and,  as  she  gave  a  pinch  here  and  a  twist 
there,  she  began  talking  in  a  tense  monotone. 

"  Father  died  when  Emmy  and  I  were  small, 
and  left  mother  alone  to  bring  us  up.  I've  heard 
mother  say  that  was  the  only  useful  thing  he  ever 
did  after  he  married  her.  Mother  was  smart. 
She  had  been  a  lady's  maid  in  some  English  noble- 


MRS.    BRAND  283 

man's  family  before  she  came  to  this  country,  and 
she  had  great  ideas  about  bringing  us  up  right. 
We  got  the  name  of  being  proud  and  I  guess  we 
were.  Mother  kept  a  milliner's  store,  and  she  got 
along  real  well.  She  always  managed  to  keep  us 
at  school,  for  she  meant  to  make  teachers  of  us. 
But  the  winter  I  was  seventeen  she  died.  Only 
three  years  ago."  The  gay,  little  doll  fell  from 
Trixy's  limp  fingers,  and  she  stared  absently  back 
into  the  memories  of  that  cherished  girlhood. 

"  What  did  you  do  after  that?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Brand,  presently. 

"  Well,  after  everything  was  settled  up  it  was 
awfully  dull;  we  missed  mother  so.  Then  we 
heard  that  we  could  get  splendid  places  as  mil- 
liners in  Chicago.  I  didn't  ever  want  to  be  a 
teacher,  but  I  wouldn't  have  dared  tell  mother 
that.  You  see,  we  were  born  milliners.  That  was 
something  we  didn't  have  to  be  years  learning, 
and  it  seemed  just  splendid  to  think  of  making  so 
much  money  right  away.  So,  after  thinking  about 
it  a  while,  we  pulled  up  and  came.  Em  wanted  to 
come  just  as  bad  as  I  did.  But  after  we  got  into 
it  we  didn't  like  it  so  well  as  we'd  expected  to." 


284  MRS.    BRAND 

"  Why?  " 

"  Well,  for  one  thing  we  had  to  work  such  long 
hours.  Then  we  didn't  know  a  soul,  and  nobody 
cared  a  cent  about  us.  I  used  to  cry  about  it,  but 
Em  was  just  like  mother.  She'd  shove  a  thing 
through  somehow,  and  she  always  said  'twould 
come  out  all  right  if  we  only  had  patience." 

"  What  store  were  you  in*?  "  asked  Mrs.  Brand, 
impulsively. 

But  Trixy  ignored  the  question,  and  when  she 
began  to  speak  again  her  voice  was  pitched  in  a 
cruder  key. 

"  He  was  there,  in  the  store.  He  always 
noticed  me  —  after  he  came  back  —  he  wasn't 
there  at  first.  But  after  a  while  we  began  to  meet 
evenings  and  Sundays.  Poor  Em  used  to  get 
pretty  wild.  She  talked  to  me  real  straight.  She 
said  I  ought  to  have  sense  enough  to  take  care  of 
myself,  and  that  he  never  would  have  looked  at 
me  if  I  hadn't  been  so  pretty.  I  knew  that  better 
than  she  did,  but  I  didn't  see  'twas  anything  to 
fret  about.  And  I  was  so  happy;  I  know  I  got 
prettier  every  day  of  my  life.  What  Em  said 
was  all  right,  but  she  didn't  say  enough  because 


MRS.    BRAND  285 

she  didn't  know  enough.  Em  never  thought  any 
further  than  that  we  might  fall  in  love  with  each 
other,  and  that  we  couldn't  get  married  because 
of  his  —  "  Trixy  paused  abruptly  and  then  went 
on.  "And  a  broken  heart!  Em  couldn't  think 
of  that  for  me."  There  was  a  cruel  irony  in  the 
pretty  voice. 

"  I  used  to  watch  his  sisters  when  they  came 
into  the  millinery  department  with  their  mother, 
so  that  I  might  be  as  near  like  them  as  possible. 
They  weren't  pretty,  but  they  were  real  ladies." 
"  Then  he  was  a  gentleman,  Trixy?  " 
"  A  gentleman*?  Oh,  yes,  what  they  call  a  gen- 
tleman. That  was  just  it,  you  see.  Two  or  three 
men  had  wanted  to  marry  me  already,  but  I  just 
couldn't  bear  them.  I  didn't  want  to  get  married. 
I  just  wanted  to  be  left  alone.  It  was  enough  to 
know  that  he  loved  me.  I  just  hungered  and 
thirsted  for  a  sight  of  him  through  the  long  day. 

Sometimes  when  he  was  with  his when  he 

couldn't  speak  to  me,  it  just  seemed  as  if  I  must 
go  crazy  if  he  didn't  give  me  a  look.  And  he 
knew  it.  Once  I  stayed  away  from  an  appoint- 
ment I  had  made  with  him,  but  I  never  did  that 


286  MRS.    BRAND 

again.  It  would  have  been  easier  to  die,  I  think," 
she  said  simply,  "  and  he  never  looked  at  me  for  a 
week.  The  time  I  spent  with  him  was  the  only 
time  there  was  to  me;  the  rest  wasn't  living." 

"  Why  did  you  love  him,  Trixy?  "  said  Mrs. 
Brand,  sadly.  The  pitiful,  inevitable  tragedy  of 
this  one  of  the  myriad  Marguerites  whose  story 
no  poet  would  ever  sing  was  burning  its  bitter 
way  into  her  heart.  This  was  what  love  wrought 
in  an  innocent  life;  it  was  well  that  she  had  set  it 
and  its  sophistries  out  of  her  heart. 

"  How  could  I  help  it"?  "  said  Trixy,  her  bril- 
liant feverish  eyes  wide  with  surprise.  "  He  was 
so  handsome,  and  he  had  all  a  gentleman's  ways. 
He  didn't  make  love  to  me  like  the  other  men  did. 
They  made  me  mad.  But  he  —  oh,  don't  you 
know?  "  she  broke  off,  wistfully. 

"  Besides,  why  was  it  wrong"?  "  she  burst  out 
excitedly  after  a  little  pause.  "  You  love  a  man, 
and  he  asks  you  to  marry  him.  I  loved  a  man, 
and  he  didn't  ask  me  to  marry  him,  but  he  asked 
everything  else,  and  I  loved  him  too  well  to  make 
a  bargain  with  him.  I  was  meant  to  love  some- 


MRS.    BRAND  287 

body,  and  I  never  could  have  loved  anybody  else 
like  I  loved  him." 

She  began  to  sob,  and  Mrs.  Brand  said,  "  Trixy, 
I  don't  believe  that  you  must  tell  me  any  more 
to-day.  It  isn't  best  for  you  to  think  of  these 
things."  The  sight  of  the  girl  lying  there  with 
her  dark-lashed  eyelids  closed  upon  cheeks  bright 
with  treacherous  spots  of  crimson  pierced  Mrs. 
Brand  with  a  keener  pity  than  she  had  ever  felt 
for  her  before. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  must  tell  you.  I  must.  I  will  be 
good.  I  won't  cry  any  more,"  she  said,  in  a  shrill, 
sibilant  whisper.  It  was  evident  that  some  under- 
current of  feeling  was  sweeping  away  the  barriers 
that  hitherto  had  bound  her  to  silence. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  much  about  it,  and  you  never 
could  imagine  it  —  the  beginning  of  that  fearful 
dread,  and  the  horror  of  it  as  it  grew  upon  me. 
He  had  told  me  such  different  things,  and  I  didn't 
know.  Then  one  day  he  teased  me,  and  said  I 
was  getting  dull,  and  that  I  was  losing  my  good 
looks,  and  so  I  told  him  what  was  frightening 
me."  She  opened  her  eyes  wide,  and  fixed  them 
hauntingly  on  Mrs.  Brand.  "  And  he  laughed  — 


288  MRS.    BRAND 

laughed,"  she  repeated,  her  tone  rising  into  a  sharp 
wail.  "  He  told  me  I  must  manage  those  things 
better."  Her  eyes  flashed,  and  she  clenched  her 
thin  hands  until  the  nails  bit  her  flesh. 

Just  for  a  moment;  then  with  an  extraordinary 
return  to  self-control  she  said  quite  gently,  "  That 
is  all,  Mrs.  Brand." 

But  to  Mrs.  Brand  it  seemed  only  the  begin- 
ning. "  Oh !  Trixy,"  she  said,  hot  tears  in  her 
eyes,  "  when  the  baby  came  —  oh,  my  child, 
surely  he  did  something,  even  if  he  could  not 
marry  you." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Trixy,  calmly.  "  He  told  me 
himself  that  Em  and  I  must  leave  the  store  at 
once  —  they  wouldn't  have  that  kind  of  girl  in 
their  employ.  Poor  Em!  Poor  proud  Em!  It 
broke  her  heart.  But  do  you  think  she  let  go  of 
me*?  She  never  said  one  word,  and  she  worked 
her  fingers  to  the  bone  to  keep  us." 

"  How  long  did  the  baby  live,  Trixy?  " 

"  Only  a  few  days.  Just  think!  A  little  girl, 
and  it  was  mine  —  mine !  "  The  sweetest  smile 
hovered  lightly  about  her  lips,  and  then  fled, 
chased  out  of  sight  by  her  changing  mood.  "  But 


MRS.    BRAND  289 

do  you  think  I  loved  it?  "  she  asked,  fiercely. 
"  When  I  saw  it  the  first  time,  lying  there  beside 
me  on  the  pillow,  I  put  my  hands  around  its  throat, 
tight,  tight  —  and  I  would  have  choked  it  to 
death  if  Em  hadn't  come  in."  She  was  silent  a 
moment,  then  with  a  desperate  wrench  she  sud- 
denly raised  herself  up  on  one  arm.  "  Tell  me, 
what  can  God  do  for  a  girl  like  me?  Must  I  go 
to  Hell,  and  never  see  my  baby  again?  How  can 
I  ever  be  like  I  used  to  be?  " 

Mrs.  Brand  felt  a  sudden  dismay.  How  could 
one  reason  with  a  poor  distressed  child  like  this? 

"  Listen,  Trixy,"  she  said,  gently,  "  you  mustn't 
think  about  it  any  more.  And  as  for  going  to 
Hell  —  dear  child,  there  isn't  any  such  place  as 
that.  People  don't  think  about  these  things  as 
they  used  to." 

Trixy  sank  back  upon  her  pillows.  "  Then 
what's  the  matter  with  me?  "  she  said,  slowly. 
"  Isn't  there  any  Heaven  either?  "  Her  voice 
quickened  resentfully. 

Mrs.  Brand  hesitated.  She  had  always  laughed 
at  the  people  who  could  "  read  their  title  clear  " 
without  any  doubt  as  to  its  meaning,  but  she  felt 


290  MRS.    BRAND 

that  something  more  than  science  and  a  surmise 
was  needed  here. 

"  Why,  yes,  there  must  be  a  Heaven,"  she 
answered,  haltingly. 

"Then  how  am  I  to  get  there?  I  can't  get 
there  like  this,"  the  girl  said,  pitifully. 

"  Why,  God  will  take  you  there,  of  course. 
You  are  thinking  too  much  about  what  is  gone 
by,  Trixy,  and  you  will  make  yourself  terribly 
unhappy  if  you  keep  on." 

But  Trixy  turned  away  her  face  in  a  passion 
of  weeping.  "  You  don't  understand,"  she  cried 
out,  miserably.  "  Don't  you  see  it's  all  gone 
wrong?  I've  been  a  cruel,  wicked  girl,  and  I'm 
wicked  still.  I  hate  him.  I  would  kill  him  now 
if  I  could,  and  how  can  I  go  to  Heaven  if  I  feel 
like  that?" 

"  Dear  Trixy,  all  that  will  be  taken  away  when 
you  get  there." 

"  Yes,  but  I  can't  wait.  I  want  it  taken  away 
now.  It  burns  me  —  like  a  fire.  Oh,  don't  you 
know  the  way?  "  She  began  to  sob  again,  and 
Mrs.  Brand  got  up  and  walked  to  the  window  in 
a  tumult  of  doubt  and  perplexity.  The  afternoon 


MRS.    BRAND  291 

sun  shone  warm  and  bright  upon  the  dirty  street, 
and  upon  the  hordes  of  little  children  "  damned 
into  existence  "  under  conditions  that  would  have 
shamed  animals.  Her  heart  grew  sick.  Was  there 
no  way  of  righting  these  wrongs,  was  there  noth- 
ing one  could  honestly  offer  to  a  soul  in  the  quick- 
sands'? 

She  went  back  to  the  bed,  and  tenderly  stroked 
the  girl's  hot  forehead  and  tumbled  hair.  "  I've 
waited  so  long  for  you  to  talk  to  me  about  it," 
Trixy  began,  in  eager,  broken  whispers.  "  Long 
ago  before  I  stopped  going  to  church  we  used  to 
hear  about  Christ  —  about  Jesus."  Her  voice 
sank  to  the  merest  quiver  of  sound.  "  They  said 
He  came  to  save  sinners.  That's  me.  But  how*? 
Tell  me !  "  She  fixed  her  great  eyes  entreatingly 
on  Mrs.  Brand's  face. 

Mrs.  Brand  shrank  back  as  if  she  had  received 
a  blow.  In  her  fierce  revolt  against  the  narrowing 
creeds  of  her  childhood,  and  against  the  later  blos- 
soming of  a  faith  all  her  own  that  was  irritably 
linked  in  her  mind  with  her  wretched  love-affair, 
she  had  pursued  a  war  of  extermination  against 
all  the  fine,  religious  instincts  of  her  nature.  She 


292  MRS.    BRAND 

would  always  be  able  to  maintain  herself  proudly 
superior  to  any  vicissitude,  but  Trixy,  poor  Trixy, 
with  her  ruined  life,  conscious  only  of  the  pain 
and  horror  of  it,  and  childishly  longing  for  some 
impossible  retribution  of  her  innocence, —  what 
was  to  be  done  with  her4?  While  she  wondered 
what  she  could  do  Trixy's  voice  broke  in,  clear  and 
loud,  upon  her  bewilderment. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  Why  don't  you  say 
something*?  Aren't  you  a  Christian,  Mrs. 
Brand?" 

The  color  flamed  into  her  face.  A  Christian! 
She  lifted  her  head.  "  No,  Trixy,  I'm  not  a  Chris- 
tian, as  you  call  it." 

"Then  what  are  you  here  for?"  exclaimed 
Trixy,  passionately.  "  I  thought  you  knew  a 
better  way  —  a  kinder  way  than  the  women  that 
prayed."  She  turned  her  face  to  the  wall  with  a 
moan  of  utter  despair. 

Mrs.  Brand  sat  there,  silent,  rigid  as  unyielding 
stone  for  a  long  time.  Then  some  subtle  sugges- 
tion warning  her  that  it  was  nearly  time  for 
"  Em  "  to  come  home  she  rose  up  and  put  on  her 


MRS.    BRAND  293 

hat,  and  without  a  glance  towards  the  bed  she 
went  away. 

When  she  reached  home  it  was  growing  dark. 
Before  going  indoors,  she  stopped  for  a  moment, 
and  looked  up  at  the  star-set  sky.  Those  mute, 
insensate  stars  —  she  felt  a  vague,  unreasoning 
hatred  of  them  with  their  endless  suggestions  of 
system  and  space.  The  sweet,  heavy  odors  of  the 
flowers  rose  up  around  her;  a  firefly  winged  his 
brilliant  way  across  her  path,  and  the  soft  night 
air  fanned  her  cheeks.  But  she  had  no  heart  for 
the  beauties  of  nature ;  she  was  at  war  with  nature 
to-night. 

When  she  went  indoors,  she  was  told  that  Mr. 
Overholt  was  waiting  to  see  her. 

"  Mr.  Overholt,"  she  said,  blankly.  "  No,  I 
cannot  see  him  now.  Tell  him  I  am  very  tired." 
She  swept  on,  upstairs  to  her  own  room,  and 
locked  and  double-locked  the  door.  Mr.  Overholt 
was  an  exacting  lover;  her  lips  seemed  to  shrivel 
at  the  possibility  of  his  lingering  touch  upon  them. 
She  lay  awake  that  night  thinking.  Her  pride 
had  been  wounded,  for  she  had  considered  her 
method  with  Trixy  certain  of  success.  Had  not 


294  MRS.    BRAND 

Mrs.  McGarvey  herself  said  as  much4?  And  now 
she  was  forced  to  admit  that  any  hallelujah  lass 
would  have  answered  the  case  better.  At  other 
times  she  fairly  moaned  at  the  burden  laid  upon 
her,  for  she  knew  she  must  go  back  to  Trixy.  Her 
conscience  smote  her  as  she  thought  of  the  girl 
lying  there  alone.  What  had  she  thought*?  The 
cruel  details  of  the  story  she  had  heard  rose  up 
before  her  like  points  of  fire  in  the  darkness.  And 
yet,  after  all  that  pathetic  recital  she  had  gone 
away  without  a  word. 

But  what  could  she  do  now*?  There  was 
Arthur  —  yes,  she  could  have  told  him  her  diffi- 
culty so  easily,  but  Mr.  Overholt !  No,  she 

could  not  imagine  herself  appealing  to  him  about 
it.  It  would  be  like  seeking  the  sympathy  of  a 
celebrated  jurist  on  a  point  of  moral  law.  A  glib 
receipt  for  regeneration  would  put  her  beyond  the 
present  limits  of  her  endurance. 

The  next  morning  Trixy,  helplessly  staring  into 
a  deserted,  dreary  future,  heard  again  the  light 
feet  and  swift  silken  sweep  in  the  passage,  and 
Mrs.  Brand  came  in. 

"  Trixy,  I  am  sorry,"  she  said.  "  I  do  not  know 
the  way,  but  we  will  find  it  out  together." 


CHAPTER  XV 

MR.  OVERHOLT  had  returned  from  his  vacation 
hoping  to  find  Mrs.  Brand  rendered  more  pliable 
by  the  rigors  of  his  absence,  but  her  welcome  of 
him  was  much  more  restrained  than  he  thought 
desirable.  During  his  absence  she  had  discarded 
the  last  vestiges  of  her  mourning  apparel,  and  he 
thought  her  very  lovely  in  her  yellow  gown  with 
yellow  roses  in  her  belt.  But  he  did  not  feel  at  all 
content  to  spend  the  evening  watching  her  oppo- 
site him  in  the  straight,  high-backed  chair. 

She  was  talking  of  Chrys,  for  the  child  had 
stayed  with  her  during  his  father's  absence,  and, 
for  reasons  best  known  to  herself  she  chose  to 
assume  that  an  exhaustive  account  of  his  doings 
was  demanded  of  her.  "  I  wish  I  could  remember 
all  the  funny  things  he  said  to  me.  One  day  we 
had  a  little  altercation  about  something  I  thought 
he  should  eat.  He  always  asked  the  blessing,  and 
at  the  next  meal  he  said  with  an  unmistakable  sug- 

295 


296  MRS.    BRAND 

gestive  accent,  '  Lord  bless  to  us  what  now  we  like 
to  do  us  good.'  "  Mr.  Overholt  laughed,  although 
he  had  not  been  sufficiently  observant  of  her 
remark  to  know  just  what  it  was  about. 

"  Yesterday  he  was  sailing  boats  in  the  bath 
upstairs,  and  I  overheard  him  making  arrange- 
ments to  hire  an  extra  sailor  out  of  Noah's  ark. 
'  Do  you  want  to  work  in  my  boat? '  he  asked. 
'  Well,  are  you  a  member  of  our  church?  ' 

"  I  thought  you  would  appreciate  that  tale," 
she  added.  "  You  see  how  kindly  he  has  taken  to 
his  training." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Overholt.  He  got  up  and 
came  over  to  her,  standing  still  and  looking  down 
at  her  without  speaking.  And  she  forgot  the 
stories  with  which  her  mind  had  been  so  full. 

"  When  are  we  going  to  be  married?  "  he  asked 
doggedly. 

"  Married!  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  answered, 
with  elaborate  carelessness.  But  she  knew  the  dis- 
cussion was  to  be  resumed  exactly  where  it  had 
broken  off  when  he  went  away,  unwillingly  alone, 
for  his  vacation. 

He  dropped  into  a  chair  beside  her,  and,  lean- 


MRS.    BRAND  297 

ing  over,  took  her  work  out  of  her  hands  and  laid 
it  on  the  table. 

"  How  would  the  middle  of  next  month  do? 
You  see,  we  can't  put  this  thing  off  indefinitely, 
and  I  really  don't  think  it  will  be  in  the  best  taste 
to  let  it  get  too  near  the  first  of  January." 

The  color  rose  in  her  face.  In  arguing  her  fu- 
ture with  herself  she  maintained  a  strictly  finan- 
cial point  of  view ;  she  could  not,  however,  endure 
any  suggestion  of  such  an  attitude  from  him. 

But  she  said  nothing,  and  he  took  her  hand, 
and  began  drawing  her  sleeve  back  from  her 
wrist.  Then  he  lightly  kissed  her  arm  again  and 
again.  She  watched  him  quite  coolly.  He  must 
kiss  her,  of  course;  she  did  not  particularly  mind 
his  lips  upon  her  wrist.  But  at  last  he  turned  her 
face  towards  him.  "  Next  month"?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  get  married,"  she  said, 
lightly. 

"  No,  of  course  not.  It  is  only  a  little  kind- 
ness on  your  part  to  oblige  me.  For  I  want  to 
very  badly.  And  Chrys,  think  of  him.  He 
sobbed  himself  asleep  last  night  after  he  came 
home." 


298  MRS.    BRAND 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  said,  in  a  troubled  way. 

"  Those  miserable  servants,  they  take  the  most 
wretched  care  of  him,  poor  child !  "  said  his  father. 
"  Come !  you  agree  to  next  month1?  " 

"  Oh,  let  us  give  it  all  up !  "  she  said,  quickly. 

"  Give  it  up !  "  he  echoed.  "  Not  much !  Do 
you  think  after  a  man  has  tasted  nectar  and  am- 
brosia he  is  going  quietly  back  to  bread  and  water1? 
We'll  settle  on  the  middle  of  next  month,"  he  said, 
gaily.  "  I  can  get  off  for  a  couple  of  weeks  then." 
He  went  on  with  eager  arrangements  for  their  trip, 
and  she  listened  absently.  But  even  then  there 
was  growing  in  her  mind  a  distinct  intention  to 
put  an  end  to  it  all,  an  intention  which  she  per- 
ceived as  if  it  were  something  quite  outside  of  her 
own  volition.  During  his  absence  she  had  con- 
trived to  think  very  little  about  him,  and  now  that 
he  was  back  again  she  was  suddenly  confronted 
by  this  strange  determination  in  herself. 

"  I  can't,"  she  kept  repeating  to  herself  while 
he  talked.  "  I  can't."  But  he  found  her  silence 
charming,  and  most  appropriate  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

When  he  got  up  to  go  she  stepped  towards  the 


MRS.    BRAND  299 

door  with  an  underlying  intention  of  taking  leave 
of  him  in  the  hall.  But  the  thing  which  she  had 
dreaded  happened,  for  he  caught  her  to  himself, 
and  she  experienced  again  all  the  stress  of  his  love 
in  its  abandon.  An  unutterable  disgust  took  pos- 
session of  her  while  he  kissed  her,  her  lips,  her  eye- 
lids, her  throat,  but  she  was  still  and  unresistant 
with  a  pride  that  he  could  never  have  compre- 
hended. 

When  he  was  gone  she  crept  up-stairs  in  the 
darkness  with  a  sense  of  such  humiliation  as  she 
had  never  dreamed  it  possible  that  she  could  know. 

But  Mr.  Overholt  carried  away  with  him  a 
lightened  heart.  The  question  of  his  marriage 
had  become  a  very  imperative  one.  He  was  quite 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  there  seemed  to  be  ele- 
ments in  his  church  that  were  not  just  as  appre- 
ciative of  him  as  he  might  reasonably  expect  them 
to  be.  He  had  achieved  in  it  a  great  popular  suc- 
cess; he  had  been  tremendously  talked  about,  and 
yet  some  of  his  old  Nancys,  as  he  called  his  board 
of  deacons,  were  not  satisfied.  And  certainly  some 
of  his  utterances  were  not  calculated  to  soothe  the 
breasts  of  a  wounded  diaconate.  "  There  is  a 


300  MRS.    BRAND 

little  text  somewhere  that  says,  '  Resist  the  devil, 
and  he  will  flee  from  you ! '  I  have  discovered  a 
modern  rendering  of  that  —  '  Resist  the  deacons, 
and  they  will  fly  at  you.' '  This  remark  of  his 
was  widely  quoted,  and  aroused  general  sympathy 
for  the  deacons,  which,  however,  always  expressed 
itself  in  a  smile,  just  as  if  they  were  sea-sick  or 
something  of  that  kind. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Boyington,  when  he  first 
divined  signs  of  an  approaching  scrimmage,  "  I 
hope  Mr.  Overholt  will  read  the  hand-writing  on 
the  wall,  '  Veni,  vidi,  vici,'  or  whatever  it  was 
that  old  king  saw  up  there,  and  get  out  in  time. 
But  you  aren't  going  to  pull  me  into  the  fracas. 
If  I  was  in  his  place  I'd  get  out  so  quick  you  could 
play  cards  on  my  coat-tails.  And  if  he's  going  to 
marry  Mrs.  Brand " 

"  Well,  he  isn't.  Mrs.  Crumpet  says  there  is 
not  a  reliable  word  in  that  report." 

"Does  she?  Well,  let's  leave  'em  alone. 
That's  my  philosophy.  If  they're  bound  to  fight, 
don't  get  monkeying  in  the  ring  or  you'll  get  hit." 

If  Mr.  Overholt  had  been  less  preoccupied  than 
he  was  with  matrimonial  pursuits  he  would  un- 


MRS.    BRAND  301 

doubtedly  have  been  able  to  manipulate  the  dan- 
gerous elements  about  him  to  his  own  advantage. 
But  he  had  ceased  to  be  interested  in  his  church. 
It  was  essential  to  his  nature  that  he  should  occupy 
a  commanding  place  in  the  affairs  of  men,  but  he 
meant  to  pursue  his  future  upon  far  more  striking 
lines  than  any  that  a  merely  ecclesiastical  organi- 
zation could  afford  him.  There  were  times  when 
he  still  preached  with  a  brilliancy  that  was  almost 
startling,  but  he  was  openly  indifferent  to  the  in- 
terests of  the  Y.  E.  L.  P.  Society,  and  he  had  even 
suggested  an  opinion  on  the  subject  of  foreign  mis- 
sionary fiends. 

There  were  not  wanting  people  who  accused 
him  of  dissimulation  —  people  who  shrank  from 
his  official  participation  in  the  things  most  sacred 
to  them.  And  yet  he  took  himself  so  seriously,  so 
momentously,  that  upon  many  people  with  whom 
he  came  in  contact  he  left  the  imprint  of  his  own 
opinion  of  himself.  To  let  his  genius  soar  and 
watch  it,  intoxicated  with  admiration  at  its  flights, 
was  a  pastime  of  which  he  never  grew  weary.  It 
had  been  the  possibility  of  that  which  had  made 
the  ministry  so  attractive  to  him  in  the  beginning. 


302  MRS.    BRAND 

The  people  who  wondered  why  he  had  never  gone 
into  the  law  did  not  realize  that  it  would  have 
afforded  no  adequate  scope  for  his  emotions. 

As  Mrs.  Brand  herself  was  sufficiently  aware 
her  fortune  was  her  commanding  attraction  to 
him,  but  after  it  was  once  assured  to  him,  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  believe  that  he  ever  had 
loved  or  ever  could  love  any  other  woman  than 
herself.  The  part  of  lover  became  an  absorbing 
one  to  him,  and  he  operated  the  role  with  a  keen 
delight  in  his  own  effectiveness.  He  was  some- 
times conscious  of  a  disappointing  lack  of  response 
in  Mrs.  Brand;  he  could  have  wished  that  she 
"  felt  the  part  "  a  little  more,  but  then  it  behooved 
him  to  be  lenient.  Her  first  marriage  had  appar- 
ently receded  from  her  experience,  leaving  very 
little  effect  behind  it.  She  was  still  in  many  ways 
as  raw  as  a  girl.  After  all,  perhaps  it  was  better 
so,  for  he  anticipated  a  great  change  in  her,  and 
it  would  be  pleasant  to  know  it  due  entirely  to 
himself.  He  had  a  persistent  theory  about  her; 
he  was  eager  to  confirm  it  as  her  husband. 

So  it  was  small  wonder  that  he  had  felt  such 
anxiety  about  his  marriage.  It  meant  freedom 


MRS.    BRAND  303 

and  opportunity  to  him,  and  now  that  these  were 
so  near  he  grew  more  and  more  restive  under  the 
ecclesiastical  yoke. 

Though  it  was  Saturday  morning  the  sermon 
hardly  begun  still  lay  unheeded  upon  the  pastor's 
desk.  For  his  thoughts  were  not  upon  the  parish 
and  its  needs;  they  were  concerned  with  the  infin- 
itely greater  needs  of  his  own  personality,  and  its 
distinctive  claims  upon  the  universe.  Far  away 
down-stairs  could  be  heard  Chrys'  shrill  treble  dis- 
porting itself  in  a  most  astonishing  version  of  an 
old  song.  The  keen  lines  about  his  father's  eyes 
relaxed ;  he  smiled  as  the  ridiculous  refrain  floated 
up  to  him  again. 

"  My  bonnet  lies  over  the  ocean, 
"  Oh,  bring  back  my  bonnet  to  me." 
With  all  his  sordid  calculations  concerning  her 
he  was  sincere  in  the  belief  that  Mrs.  Brand  would 
be  good  to  his  child.    His  affection  for  Chrys  was 
as  yet  the  one  untarnished  spot  in  his  character. 
It  was  wonderful  how  many  women  were  willing 
to  immolate  themselves  on  the  altar  of  matrimony 
for  the  sake  of  being  mothers  to  Chrys.    Mr.  Over- 
holt  had  felt  at  times  that  it  required  something 


304  MRS.    BRAND 

akin  to  brute  force  to  avoid  being  made  a  bigamist 
unawares.  And  the  mother  who  beamed  proxily 
upon  him 

But  this  was  all  about  to  end,  and  in  the  warm 
glow  of  anticipation  that  he  felt  this  morning  it 
was  not  to  be  supposed  that  his  sermon  should 
weigh  too  heavily  on  his  dreams.  He  smiled  a  lit- 
tle as  he  recalled  Mr.  Brand's  cautious  financier- 
ing. It  was  the  timidity  of  a  man  who  had  never 
recovered  from  the  astonishment  of  finding  him- 
self rich,  and  for  whom  life  had  never  advanced 
from  a  duty  to  a  fine  art.  Still,  such  careers  as 
his  were  the  necessary  foundations  of  those  that 
came  next,  picturesque  and  appreciative  of  the 
claims  upon  them  of  redeeming  a  dull  and  money- 
grubbing  world  from  its  sordid  aspect.  Five  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars!  It  was  not  after  all  a 
great  deal,  but  he  believed  he  could  manipulate  it 
effectively. 

In  the  midst  of  these  imaginative  flights  the 
senior  deacon  was  announced  as  anxious  to  see 
him  for  a  few  moments  on  business  of  importance. 
Mr.  Overholt  descended  upon  him  affably.  "  Oh 
no,  don't  apologize  for  intruding  this  morning," 


MRS.    BRAND  305 

he  said  genially.  "  Even  sermons  'must  give  way 
to  any  immediate  service  I  can  render  my  people." 

"  I  daresay,"  said  Mr.  Waring,  with  some  evi- 
dent embarrassment.  "  Still  I  should  not  be  here 
this  morning  if  it  had  not  appeared  to  us  so  neces- 
sary." He  paused  again,  and  Mr.  Overholt 
amused  himself  by  silent  speculations  as  to  his 
deacon's  manifest  discomfort.  It  was  clear  that 
the  pastor  was  to  be  "  talked  to  "  about  some- 
thing; he  felt  the  repose  of  sitting  on  the  outside 
edge  of  this  ferment,  when  one  was  supposed  to  be 
an  integral  part  of  it. 

But  the  deacon's  gaze  met  the  minister's  with  a 
gravity  that  was  ridiculously  overdone.  "  Mr. 
Overholt,"  he  began,  with  a  little  quiver  in  his 
voice  that  affected  his  hearer  strangely,  "  I  have 
come  to  see  you  by  myself  this  morning,  because  I 
felt  that  before  you  were  visited  by  our  commit- 
tee it  was  only  just  that  you  should  have  some 
preparation  for  what  they  might  say  to  you.  I 
have  not  come,  however,  without  their  knowledge 
and  consent  —  desire  indeed."  He  stopped,  but 
Mr.  Overholt  with  a  peremptory  wave  of  his  hand 
motioned  for  him  to  proceed.  There  was,  after 


306  MRS.    BRAND 

all,  a  limit  to  one's  endurance  of  this  sort  of  thing. 

"  Of  course,  you  know,  without  my  dwelling 
upon  it  that  for  some  time  past  there  has  been  a 
restless  feeling  in  the  church,  a  growing  dissatis- 
faction   " 

"  Now,  will  you  kindly  tell  me  just  what  all 
this  beating  about  the  bush  means,"  interrupted 
Mr.  Overholt,  with  a  bland  smile.  "  In  a  very 
few  words  if  you  please.  I  really  am  very  busy 
this  morning." 

"  Your  wife  —  the  nurse,"  faltered  the  deacon. 
It  was  a  warm  day,  and  he  stopped  to  wipe  the 
perspiration  from  his  forehead.  He  had  the  air 
of  a  very  guilty  man. 

"  My  wife  —  the  nurse,"  repeated  Mr.  Over- 
holt,  acidly.  "  Now  that  may  be  a  remarkably 
lucid  statement  to  you,  my  good  friend,  but  it 
lacks  certain  elements  to  make  it  quite  intelligible 
to  me."  As  he  spoke  he  rose  from  his  seat.  He 
felt  the  utmost  resentment  at  any  gossip  that  im- 
pinged upon  the  privacy  of  his  home. 

Deacon  Waring  rose  also.  "  It  is  only  because 
I  would  have  spared  you,  Mr.  Overholt,  if  I 
could,"  he  said,  simply.  "  Through  the  nurse  who 


MRS.    BRAND  307 

took  care  of  your  wife  during  her  last  illness  there 
has  somehow  spread  a  report  —  a  report  that  you 
—  that  your  wife  died  from  an  overdose  of  mor- 
phine." Now  that  he  had  said  it  the  man  seemed 
dazed  with  the  horror  of  his  own  statement. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  broken  by  Mr. 
Overholt's  voice,  cool  and  even.  "  That  is,  then, 
what  you  came  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Waring1?  I  do 
not  doubt  the  kindness  of  your  intention,  but  I 
really  fail  to  see  in  just  what  way  you  expect  to 
benefit  me."  A  light  film  of  pallor  had  settled 
over  his  face;  otherwise  there  was  no  sign  in  him 
than  it  was  other  than  an  ordinary  conversation 
that  was  in  progress. 

Mr.  Waring  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 
"  But  don't  you  see  —  why,  a  minister's  reputa- 
tion is  so  fragile  a  thing  —  even  a  suspicion  is 
able  to  ruin  it  completely.  It  is  the  most  serious 
thing  that  could  possibly  happen  to  you." 

Mr.  Overholt  smiled.  "  A  minister's  reputa- 
tion !  Really,  I  am  not  very  much  concerned 
about  that  just  now,"  he  said,  enigmatically. 

"  And  this  story "  he  blew  it  lightly  from 

his  fingers  —  "a  nine  days'  wonder.  The  people 


308  MRS.    BRAND 

crave  that  kind  of  thing.  And,  after  all,  why 
shouldn't  they?  " 

"  But  my  good  man,  every  prospect  you  have 
will  be  ruined  by  this  thing.  It  won't  be  a  nine 
days'  matter  for  you.  You  don't  know  what  it 
may  lead  to.  If  you  can  prove  —  whatever  proofs 
you  have  must  be  gathered  at  once.  There  is  Dr. 
Challoner,  you  must  see  him." 

"  Ah,  Dr.  Challoner !  "  There  was  barely  a 
perceptible  drop  in  Mr.  Overholt's  voice.  He 
still  stood  grasping  the  back  of  a  chair.  Over  his 
white  forehead  there  suddenly  spread  a  bead-like 
web  of  perspiration.  "  But  if  as  you  said  just 
now,  Mr.  Waring,  a  suspicion  is  sufficient  to  ruin  a 
minister,  I  don't  see  just  how  I  am  to  defend  my- 
self. One  can  not  get  out  an  injunction  against 
a  suspicion." 

Mr.  Waring  went  away  in  despair  and  conster- 
nation. He  was  a  simple-minded  man,  but  he 
had  somehow  the  impression  that  throughout  the 
entire  interview  he  had  been  played  with.  And 
he  could  not  understand  that,  for  to  him  Mr. 
Overholt's  position  appeared  appalling  in  the 
extreme. 


MRS.    BRAND  309 

When  Mr.  Overholt  reached  his  study  again 
he  threw  himself  face  downward  on  the  lounge, 
and  lay  there  without  moving  for  some  time. 
Then  he  got  up,  and  stood  quite  still  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room.  A  curious  blight  seemed  to  have 
passed  over  him;  the  radiant  effect  of  self-suffi- 
cient youth  was  gone.  He  had  the  dazed  and 
shrunken  look  of  a  man  who  has  had  a  great 
shock,  of  which  he  feels  the  crushing  effect  with- 
out understanding  just  what  has  caused  it.  He 
put  his  hand  wearily  to  his  head.  "  But  did  I?  " 
he  said  aloud.  "  Did  I?  "  He  sat  down  abruptly 
in  his  chair,  and  began  to  force  his  mind  back  to 
the  time  with  which  his  life  now  seemed  to  have 
no  vital  connection  whatever.  His  wife  —  she 
had  certainly  left  an  indelible  impression  on  his 
mind,  but  it  was  so  shadowy  and  unreal.  It  was 
a  long  time  since  he  had  thought  of  her  at  all,  and 
he  found  it  quite  impossible  to  replace  himself  in 
the  old  relationship.  "  An  overdose  of  morphia !  " 
His  mind  played  about  the  idea  without  any  sense 
of  horror,  but  with  the  most  lively  curiosity  as  to 
what  he  really  had  done.  It  interested  him  im- 
mensely, but  he  could  remember  nothing  except 


310  MRS.    BRAND 

the  intense  relief  he  had  felt  when  he  knew  that 
she  was  dead,  for  he  was  so  tired,  so  cruelly 
exhausted.  And  with  her  death  she  had  vanished 
out  of  his  life,  and  in  the  crises  that  had  accumu- 
lated so  frequently  since  then  there  had  been  no 
time  for  useless  retrospect.  She  had  been  a  good 
wife,  with  no  disturbing  elements  of  character. 

But  in  the  midst  of  these  thoughts  there  was 
continually  present  to  him  an  alien  consciousness 
of  something  waiting  to  be  done.  How  thick  and 
heavy  his  head  felt.  He  got  up  and  went  over  to 
a  cupboard  from  which  after  unlocking  it,  he  took 
a  little  phial.  He  really  must  have  something  to 
clear  his  brain. 

An  hour  later  he  was  on  his  way  to  Mrs.  Brand, 
for  in  the  vivid  flashes  of  perception  that  began 
to  lighten  his  way  he  forsaw  his  dangers  with  all 
the  clearness  Mr.  Waring  could  have  desired,  and 
his  mind,  long  accustomed  to  strange  feats  of 
speculation,  began  to  answer  brilliantly  to  the 
spur  of  his  necessities.  An  unexpected  and  un- 
avoidable summons  to  New  York,  that  might 
entail  a  long  absence  for  him  —  he  would  explain 
all  that  to  her  satisfactorily  —  surely  she  could 


MRS.    BRAND  311 

see  the  necessity  for  their  immediate  marriage. 
The  details  of  that  assumed  rapid  shape  in  his 
mind.  It  would  really  be  much  better  to  be  mar- 
ried in  New  York.  He  would  see  her  off  over  the 
Lake  Shore,  and  leave  himself  an  hour  or  two  later 
by  another  route.  That  would  be  a  most  delicate 
concession  to  her  possible  scruples  on  the  score  of 
propriety.  After  all,  it  occurred  to  him  pleas- 
antly, that  she  would  be  glad  to  be  taken  by  force 
as  it  were,  and  married  without  further  oppor- 
tunity for  argument.  Only  once  as  he  came  in 
sight  of  the  familiar  house  did  his  courage  fail. 
"  Well,  if  she  won't,  the  jig's  up,"  he  thought,  as 
he  rang  the  bell.  But  he  reassured  himself  tena- 
ciously as  he  followed  the  maid  through  the 
wide,  quiet  hall,  sweet  with  the  perfume  of  great 
bowls  of  flowers  set  here  and  there,  and  prodigal 
in  all  its  appointments.  Left  alone  to  await  Mrs. 
Brand's  coming,  he  paced  to  and  fro,  his  mind  no 
longer  working  smoothly  along  the  lines  of  a  defi- 
nite scheme,  but  filled  with  a  rush  of  desperate 
thought.  His  feet  pressed  into  the  thick  carpet, 
and  he  looked  down  at  it  suddenly  with  a  critical 
appreciation  of  its  money  value.  Then  his  eye 


312  MRS.    BRAND 

wandered  shrewdly  over  the  furniture,  and  the 
beautiful  water-colors  on  the  wall  —  he  had  never 
before  felt  so  fierce  a  determination  to  have  and 
to  hold  all  this  for  himself.  In  his  fevered  stress 
of  mind  he  sought  to  bribe  the  dim  ideal  that  still 
had  somewhere  a  vague  resting-place  in  his 
thought.  Ah,  he  would  like  to  be  different;  he 
would  if  he  only  had  one  chance.  He  sought  out 
an  easy  chair,  and  sinking  into  its  luxurious  depths 
he  closed  his  eyes  as  if  to  exclude  the  pressure 
upon  them  of  the  wealth  that  encompassed  him. 
A  light  breeze  blew  a  purple-blossomed  vine 
against  the  window,  the  bees  droned  in  the  hearts 
of  the  flowers,  and  across  the  lawn  came  the  whirr 
of  the  mower  as  the  grass  fell  in  a  green  shower 
about  it.  Into  his  soul  there  came  a  dim  yearning 
for  the  restoration  of  some  lost  moral  quality. 

He  sprang  suddenly  to  his  feet,  for  Mrs.  Brand 
stood  beside  him.  "  My  darling,"  he  said,  breath- 
lessly. He  caught  her  hands  in  his,  drawing  her 
with  an  insistent  pressure  towards  him. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  hoarsely.  "  I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you." 

"  So  you  ought,"  he  said,  with  a  desperate  effort 


MRS.    BRAND  313 

to  smother  the  alarm  her  manner  had  produced  in 
him.  "  But  so  have  I,  and  I  think  that  you  ought 
to  let  me  speak  first,  as  I  have  come  here  just  to 
tell  you  this."  She  must  not  have  time  to  think; 
he  must  sweep  her  beyond  her  scruples  by  the 
force  of  his  own  enthusiasm.  "  Listen,  I  have  had 
a  most  unexpected  summons  to  New  York.  I 
must  leave  to-day.  I  must  do  this,  and  it  may  be 
necessary  for  me  to  be  absent  some  time.  Now, 
I  can  not  —  I  will  not  bear  any  further  separation 
from  you.  The  strain  is  killing  me.  Look  at  me ; 
you  can  see  for  yourself."  Had  he  achieved  his 
present  appearance  as  the  result  of  careful  calcu- 
lation, and  infinite  resource  in  dealing  with  women 
he  could  hardly  have  succeeded  better.  But  the 
sharp  sense  of  pity  that  filled  her  heart  for  him 
was  swept  quickly  out  of  sight  by  his  own  words. 
"  I  want  you  to  come  with  me  —  at  least  I  want 
you  to  meet  me  in  New  York,  and  we  will  be  mar- 
ried at  once." 

She  drew  back,  putting  her  hand  out  as  if  to 
ward  off  further  speech.  But  she  was  silent,  strug- 
gling to  find  some  impossible  way  to  make  it  easy 
for  herself  and  him.  "  It  is  just  this,"  she  fal- 


314  MRS.    BRAND 

tered  at  last.  "  I  can  not.  It  has  been  a  hor- 
rible mistake.  I  can  never  marry  you." 

"Why?"  he  demanded,  with  dry  lips.  Was 
it  possible  that  she  had  already  got  hold  of  this 
story? 

"  Because  I  do  not  love  you,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Is  that  your  only  reason?  " 

"  Isn't  it  enough? "  she  said,  with  sudden 
vehemence. 

He  smiled  slightly.  In  a  moment  all  his  care- 
fully elaborated  schemes  had  slipped  through  his 
fingers,  for  he  recognized  instinctively  that  her  po- 
sition, once  taken,  was  final.  But  what  had 
driven  her  to  it? 

"  It  might  seem  so,  under  some  circumstances," 
he  said,  with  caustic  emphasis.  But  she  could  not 
feel  angry  with  him.  She  was  too  humiliatingly 
conscious  of  her  own  miserable  vacillation  in  this 
whole  affair. 

'  You  will  never  know  how  sorry  I  am,"  she 
said,  simply,  "  nor  how  ashamed.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  Chrys,  I  think  I  should  have  known  bet- 
ter." Her  eyes  filled  with  sudden  tears. 


MRS.    BRAND  815 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Overholt,  drily.  This 
was  reparation  pushed  to  an  extreme,  he  thought. 
But  suddenly  he  stepped  towards  her.  "  Cecily," 
he  said,  imploringly,  "  you  cannot  mean  it.  For 
God's  sake,  think  what  you  are  doing.  Have  I 
given  you  any  cause  for  this?  No,  you  know  I 
have  not.  You  know  I  love  you  —  you,  not  your 
money,  or  anything  else,  but  you." 

"  Yes,  perhaps,"  she  said,  slowly.  "  But  things 
are  all  changed  with  me.  Oh,  you  must  have  seen 
it." 

"  No,  I  have  not." 

She  had  sat  down,  but  she  stood  up  again. 
"  Must  we  argue  it4?  "  she  asked,  gently.  "  It 
will  never  be  otherwise." 

"  It  must,"  he  said,  fiercely.  "  You  ask  too 
much.  I  can  not  give  you  up  now.  My  life  will 
be  ruined  if  you  do  not  marry  me.  You  do  not 
know  what  it  means  to  me."  He  looked  at  her 
wildly,  gripping  one  hand  with  the  other  as  he 
spoke.  A  frantic  impulse  swept  over  him  —  to 
tell  her  all  the  difficulties  that  beset  him.  But 
even  as  he  thought  of  that  he  knew  that  it  would 
be  useless ;  besides  he  could  not  do  it.  In  a  mind 


316  MRS.    BRAND 

like  his  where  daring  schemes  overlapped  each 
other  there  was  no  room  for  direct  simplicity  of 
thought.  He  relied  upon  his  imagination  for  his 
facts;  he  had  even  now  a  shifty  consciousness  of 
that  as  he  tried  to  imagine  himself  telling  her  the 
story  which  should  compel  her  sympathy. 

"  You  talk  about  love !  "  He  made  a  gesture 
of  impatience.  "  Have  I  harassed  you  about 
that?  I  am  willing  to  wait.  It  will  come." 

A  warm  color  spread  over  her  face,  but  she  said 
nothing,  and  as  he  watched  her  his  mood  changed. 

"  What  has  come  over  you?  You  have  every- 
thing to  lose  if  you  do  not  marry  me."  She  made 
an  impetuous  movement,  and  a  throng  of  words 
swarmed  to  her  lips,  but  she  would  not  speak. 
She  had  a  feeling  of  such  utter  repugnance  of  her- 
self and  the  part  that  she  had  played  that  she  felt 
a  certain  satisfaction  in  being  pelted  with  these 
odious  personalities. 

"  Unless  you  mean  to  marry  some  one  else," 
Mr.  Overholt  went  on,  slowly.  His  heart  gave  a 
sudden  leap  as  he  spoke,  for  she  shrank  back  from 
him  as  if  from  a  creeping  flame.  "  Ah,  is  it  pos- 
sible ! "  he  exclaimed,  with  biting  emphasis. 


MRS.    BRAND  317 

"  That  is  the  meaning,  then,  of  this  sudden  ap- 
preciation of  love,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

She  faced  him  with  indignant  protest.  "  There 
has  been  nothing  to  warrant  you " 

"  It  must  be  Challoner,"  Mr.  Overholt  broke 
in,  smoothly.  "Challoner!"  he  repeated,  as  if 
for  the  purpose  of  admiring  the  effect  of  the  name 
upon  her.  "  Why  didn't  I  think  of  it  sooner,  I 
wonder"?  Since  when  have  you  developed  this 
ardent  affection  for  him,  may  I  ask*?  "  A  subtle 
change  had  passed  over  him  like  a  fresh,  salt  wind 
off  the  sea.  He  was  erect  and  smiling  again,  a 
vision  of  invulnerable  youth.  He  had  played  his 
last  card  and  lost,  but  after  all,  that  shifted  a 
great  responsibility  off  his  shoulders. 

Mrs.  Brand  looked  up  at  him.  There  was  a 
chance  for  her  now  to  make  atonement,  and  her 
heart  clutched  it  desperately.  Her  dignity,  her 
pride,  they  were  as  nothing  before  this  strange, 
new  power  in  her  soul  that  urged  her  to  the  utmost 
reparation  she  could  make. 

"  Dr.  Challoner  *?  Yes,  I  love  him  better  than 
my  life,  I  think,"  she  said,  with  quivering  lips. 


318  MRS.    BRAND 

"  I  have  always  loved  him,  I  think,  but  I  did  not 
know  it  was  love." 

"  That  is  very  pretty  —  quite  Arcadian,  in 
fact."  He  held  out  his  hand  to  her.  "  When  is 
it  to  be?  "  he  asked,  carelessly.  "  Or  have  you 
waited  to  call  my  date  off  first"?  " 

"  You  do  not  understand,"  she  said,  passion- 
ately. "  Dr.  Challoner  will  never  ask  me  to 
marry  him  now."  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  The 
delicate  reserve  that  she  had  set  so  imperiously 
aside  for  a  moment,  came  back  upon  her  with  a 
sharp  recoil,  and  she  felt  a  stinging  shame  at  what 
she  had  done. 

"  So  that  is  how  it  stands !  A  most  effective 
situation !  " 

"  It  has  all  been  wrong,"  she  said,  miserably. 
"  It  has  always  been  wrong  with  us.  But  I  want 
you  to  remember,  you  must  remember,  that  even 
if  I  cannot  do  as  I  thought,  you  and  Chrys  will 
always  have  a  place  —  "it  was  so  hard  to  find 
the  best  words  —  "  you  must  remember  that  I 
promised  to  care  for  Chrys." 

His  heart  softened.  She  had  never  said  she 
loved  him,  and  he  had  never  supposed  she  did, 


MRS.    BRAND  319 

but  he  knew  her  sincerity  of  feeling  for  his  boy. 

"  I  know  you  would  be  good  to  him,"  he  said, 
simply.  "  And  I  shall  always  be  grateful  to  you 
if  you  are."  He  took  her  hand  to  say  good-bye, 
and  held  it  while  he  looked  at  her  for  a  moment 
that  had  for  her  the  vague  tremor  of  a  final  part- 
ing, and  to  him  it  was  the  last  glimpse  of  that 
roseate  future  in  which  she  had  been,  after  all, 
the  supreme  fascination. 

When  he  was  gone  she  dropped  into  the  chair 
nearest  her,  letting  her  hands  fall  helplessly  at 
her  sides.  She  was  worn  out,  and  capable  of  no 
clear  thought  on  the  interview  from  which  her 
pulse  still  throbbed  tumultuously,  but  even  then 
she  was  gnawed  by  suspicions  —  suspicions  about 
him  always  inherent  in  her,  it  seemed,  and  quick- 
ened by  the  doubts  of  Bruin.  That  terrible  dis- 
trust of  him  with  which  her  thought  was  honey- 
combed besieged  her  now  with  suggestions  from 
which  she  shrank.  The  last  few  weeks  had  passed 
through  her  life  like  a  hurricane,  sweeping  her 
heart  clear  of  the  rubbish  with  which  she  had 
filled  it,  and  making  room  in  its  silent  spaces  for 
that  dim  visitant,  so  long  ignored,  to  whom  at  last 
she  stretched  out  hands  of  yearning. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WHEN  Mr.  Overholt  left  Mrs.  Brand's  he  walked 
rapidly  along  the  street  for  some  moments 
without  any  definite  sense  of  destination.  The 
consciousness  of  disaster  that  had  been  so  heavy 
upon  him  when  he  went  to  see  her  had  quite 
departed  for  the  time  at  least,  leaving  in  its  place 
an  expanding  exhilaration  which  spread  like  wine 
through  his  veins.  Let  them  do  their  worst;  he 
was  ready  to  take  the  world  by  the  throat  if  need 
be. 

He  was  close  to  the  station  when  he  heard  the 
distant  whistle  of  a  city-bound  train.  A  few 
moments  later  he  was  aboard  it,  speeding  on  its 
swift  wings  of  steel  towards  the  fulfilment  of  an 
idea  that  had  suddenly  struck  him  with  the  force 
of  an  inspiration.  In  its  contemplation  he  quite 
forgot  the  crisis  in  his  own  affairs.  The  fellow 
was  such  an  arrant  fool,  he  reflected  generously; 
he  would  probably  spend  the  rest  of  his  life  wait- 


MRS.    BRAND  321 

ing  for  some  one  to  push  him  into  the  troubled 
pool  of  her  affections.  But  who  could  do  that  as 
well  as  himself?  The  fascination  of  the  idea 
appealed  to  him  strenuously,  and  by  the  time  the 
train  reached  the  city  there  was  no  remnant  in 
his  mental  outlook  of  the  triumphant  proprietor- 
ship that  he  had  so  recently  felt  in  Mrs.  Brand. 
As  long  as  he  could  not  have  her  why  not  lend  his 
aid  to  the  man  who  could?  His  position  seemed 
to  him  a  peculiarly  felicitous  one,  for  it  called  into 
play  resources  of  which  he  felt  himself  possessed 
in  profusion.  As  in  the  case  of  his  wife's  death, 
so  now,  he  had  suddenly  stepped  out  of  a  whole 
set  of  emotions  into  a  new  and  seductive  range  of 
experience.  Pursued  under  so  elastic  a  system, 
life  seemed  to  offer  endless  opportunities  for  spir- 
itual development,  for  what  could  be  more  con- 
vincing evidence  of  the  harmony  of  the  inner  with 
the  outer  environment?  His  heart  warmed 
toward  Dr.  Challoner  as  he  drew  near  Brand 
House.  Poor  devil !  He  had  given  him  a 
pretty  vile  time  of  it,  he  supposed,  but  he  was 
ready  to  even  things  up  royally  now  that  he  was  at 
it. 


322  MRS.    BRAND 

He  found  Dr.  Challoner  in  his  office,  and  before 
the  surprised  man  could  definitely  grasp  the 
identity  of  his  visitor  Mr.  Overholt  had  seized 
him  by  the  hand,  and  greeted  him  with  fraternal 
effusion. 

"  Yes,  I  don't  wonder  that  you  are  astonished 
at  seeing  me  here.  The  fact  is  a  little  matter  came 
up  to-day  between  Mrs.  Brand  and  myself  that 
led  to  developments  so  vitally  concerning  you  that 
I  felt  myself  compelled  to  come  and  talk  the  mat- 
ter over  with  you."  He  could  hardly  forebear  a 
smile  at  the  attitude  and  expression  of  the  man 
before  him. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  how  to  account  for  it," 
he  went  on  genially,  "  but  Mrs.  Brand  seems  to 
have  made  herself  and  you  the  victims  of  the  most 
extraordinary  misunderstanding." 

Dr.  Challoner  stepped  forward.  "  You  will 
refrain  from  any  further  reference  to  Mrs. 
Brand,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  filled  the  little 
room. 

"  Can't  very  well,  my  dear  fellow,  unless  you 
would  prefer  me  to  refer  to  her  as  the  X-femi- 
nine.  That  would  be  appropriate." 


MRS.    BRAND  323 

Dr.  Challoner  laid  his  hand  heavily  on  the 
minister's  shoulder.  Mr.  Overholt  was  gratified. 
The  situation  was  developing.  "  That's  right. 
Your  feelings  do  you  the  utmost  credit.  But 
they're  just  a  little  out  of  date." 

Dr.  Challoner  drew  back  with  an  exclamation 
of  contempt.  Bah!  As  well  attempt  to  demon- 
strate moral  perspective  to  a  canary-bird. 

"  You  see,  it's  like  this.  You  know  that  Mrs. 
Brand  and  I  have  been  engaged.  Well,  owing  to 

some  unforeseen  circumstances, "  he  stopped 

suddenly,  and  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  the  most 
peculiar  expression,  a  sort  of  hunted  look,  appear- 
ing in  his  eyes,  while  upon  his  face  a  gray,  with- 
ered shadow  seemed  to  rest  —  "to  cut  it  short, 
my  friend,  I  went  to  see  her  to-day,  and  she  — 
ah,  she  expressed  a  preference  for  you  that  quite 
cut  me  off  from  the  enjoyment  of  her  affections. 
Do  you  understand*?  "  He  eyed  the  man  oppo- 
site him  curiously.  "Loves  you,  you  know; 
always  has;  would  die  for  you,  I  believe  —  that 
kind  of  thing.  So  she  said,  anyway.  Rather  a 
grating  experience  for  me,  don't  you  think?  " 

Dr.    Challoner   said   nothing,   but  his   slowly 


324  MRS.    BRAND 

blanching  face,  and  the  grip  of  his  teeth  upon  his 
lips  were  sufficient  testimony.  "Hem!  He  takes 
it  rigidly,"  thought  Mr.  Overholt,  with  a  sense 
of  disappointment. 

But  all  at  once  Dr.  Challoner  brought  his 
clenched  hand  down  upon  the  table  beside  him 
with  a  crash  that  splintered  into  fragments  the 
glass  apparatus  which  stood  on  it.  His  eyes 
flashed  like  molten  points  of  flame,  for  into  his 
mind  tense  with  a  tremendous  vision  of  supremest 
blessedness  there  had  penetrated  a  thought  more 
cruel  than  he  could  bear.  If  such  an  incredible 
thing  could  be  true,  this  man  would  necessarily  be 
the  last  one  in  the  world  to  tell  him  of  it.  For 
one  vehement  moment  he  had  all  the  feelings  of  a 
man  who  longs  to  crush  the  malignant  life  out 
of  another.  Then  he  said  with  a  slow,  shaken 
utterance,  "  When  Mrs.  Brand  wishes  me  to  know 
these  things  she  will  probably  be  able  to  tell  me 
them  herself.  In  the  meantime,  as  you  seem  to 
enjoy  my  office,  I  will  leave  you  to  the  undivided 
possession  of  it."  He  was  turning  on  his  heel 
when  he  paused,  his  keen  eye  arrested  by  a  rapid 
change  in  Mr.  Overholt's  appearance. 


MRS.    BRAND  325 

"  What  is  the  matter4?  "  he  said,  roughly.  "  Are 
you  ill1?"  For  Mr.  Overholt  was  leaning  un- 
steadily against  the  wall,  his  white  face  with  its 
blue  lips  covered  with  that  film  of  perspiration 
again,  and  his  eyes  staring  vacantly  before  him. 
But  at  the  sound  of  the  sharp  voice  beside  him  he 
braced  himself  involuntarily  and  seemed  to  regain 
his  poise  as  quickly  as  he  had  lost  it. 

"Ah,  nothing!  Was  I  faint,  perhaps*?"  he 
said,  with  an  effort  towards  his  usual  airy  manner. 
He  looked  at  Dr.  Challoner  with  a  puzzled 
expression,  as  if  his  memory  were  slow  to  respond 
to  some  unconscious  demand  upon  it.  "  Ah,  to 
be  sure !  I  remember  now.  Yes,  yes !  "  His 
manner  underwent  a  change,  for  he  had  stumbled 
upon  one  of  the  few,  genuine  moments  of  his  life. 
"  No,  you  don't  believe  me,  but  it  is  true,  never- 
theless, that  I  have  done  you  to-day  the  greatest 
service  that  one  man  could  render  another.  I 
have  voluntarily  placed  in  your  keeping  all  that 
had  been  snatched  from  mine.  And  you1?  All 
you  want  is  to  kick  me  out  of  your  sight." 

It  was  six  o'clock,  and  the  streets  were  crowded 
with  a  jostling  throng  of  men  and  women  dis- 


326  MRS.    BRAND 

gorged  from  the  surrounding  factories,  but  as  he 
hurried  away  back  towards  his  train  he  was  as 
unconscious  of  their  noisy  proximity  to  him  as  if 
he  had  been  alone  on  the  silent  reaches  of  Sahara. 
As  he  sank  into  his  seat  in  the  train  a  faint  smile 
crossed  his  lips.  "  To  think  that  I  should  have 
been  so  carried  away.  It  was  just  the  touch  to 
make  the  interview  perfect."  After  a  while  he 
took  out  his  note-book,  and  scribbled  a  few  lines 
in  it,  and  after  reading  what  he  had  written  a 
great  many  times  he  tore  out  the  page,  and  when 
the  train  reached  Glenedge  he  went  into  the  near- 
est drug  store  for  an  envelope  and  stamps,  for 
he  was  possessed  by  a  restless  desire  to  send  the 
message  on  its  way  as  soon  as  possible.  "  I  have 
been  to  see  Dr.  Challoner,"  he  had  written  Mrs. 
Brand,  "  as  I  thought  for  the  happiness  of  all  con- 
cerned that  he  ought  to  know  of  your  state  of 
mind  as  soon  as  possible.  His  message  to  you  is 
that  you  are  probably  quite  capable  of  telling  him 
your  mind  when  you  get  ready." 

There  was  the  usual  soda-water  crowd  in  the 
store,  and  even  to  his  present  obscured  percep- 
tions there  seemed  something  strange  in  the  way 
they  shrank  back  from  him  as  he  passed.  He  had 


MRS.    BRAND  327 

felt  some  surprise  in  the  train  at  seeing  his  mem- 
bers, one  after  another,  hurry  by  the  vacant  seat 
beside  him  into  the  forward  car,  although  he  had 
really  preferred  to  be  alone.  But  after  he  had 
posted  his  letter,  there  remained  in  his  mind  an 
irritating  sense  of  discomfort  that  grew  upon  him 
steadily  as  the  stimulating  events  of  the  outlived 
afternoon  receded  from  his  imagination.  The  im- 
pudent brilliancy  of  scheme  and  execution  that 
had  so  often  passed  for  moral  courage  deserted 
him  at  last,  for  he  had  no  longer  any  goal  in  view. 

When  he  reached  home  the  first  thing  to  meet 
his  eye  was  his  evening  paper  lying  on  the  door- 
step. He  picked  it  up,  and  mechanically  straight- 
ened it  out  as  he  went  in,  dully  catching  the  big 

head  lines,  "  Sensational  Disclosures " 

What  was  that*?  He  tore  it  open,  and  farther 
down  the  page  was  his  own  face  looking  out  at 
him  with  the  easy  assurance  of  a  man  who  has 
no  doubts  of  his  supreme  ability  to  cope  with  the 
world  for  which  he  lies  in  wait. 

Later  that  night  the  minister  sat  alone  in  his 
silent  house,  desperately  fighting  back  the  flood 
that  threatened  to  overwhelm  him.  The  inter- 
view that  had  just  ended  between  him  and  his 


328  MRS.    BRAND 

deacons  replaced  itself  continuously  in  his  brain. 
Not  to  appear  in  his  pulpit  to-morrow  *?  —  to  be 
forced  to  hide  from  his  people  like  a  felon  in  his 
cell  until  an  official  board  had  investigated  — 
what*?  A  long  fit  of  shivering  seized  him,  in 
which  he  was  sensitive  only  to  the  physical  suffer- 
ing that  held  him  in  its  grip.  But  his  brain  cleared 
after  a  while,  and  he  fell  upon  his  case  again  with 
a  species  of  fury  that  he  felt  must  bring  some 
result.  But  wait!  An  investigation*?  —  what 
did  that  mean"?  Where  would  it  end4?  There 
were  back  numbers  in  his  history  to  which  he  had 
not  turned  for  years.  They  seemed  to  him  to 
have  no  more  relation  to  his  present  than  if  they 
had  belonged  to  some  previous  state  of  incarna- 
tion. But  there  were  people  who  would  take  no 
such  view  of  the  matter.  His  head  fell  forward 
upon  his  hands,  and  he  sat  for  nearly  an  hour 
staring  at  his  feet  with  eyes  that  had  in  them  the 
vacant  glaze  of  despair.  And  then  into  his  burn- 
ing brain  there  pierced  a  thought  as  lucent  as  a 
cooling  stream  between  hot  banks  of  sand.  His 
wife !  Ah,  if  he  could  but  find  a  way  back  to  her 
tenderness.  Her  sweet  face  rose  up  before  him; 
her  soft,  blue  eyes  sought  his  with  the  same  vague 


MRS.    BRAND  329 

look  of  bewildered  appeal  that  had  first  thrilled 
his  ready  heart  long  ago.  Somewhere  she  must 
be  waiting  for  him  still  alone,  perhaps,  like  a 
frightened  child  in  the  dark,  wondering  why  he 
did  not  come. 

What  was  that?  Only  the  big  clock  in  the 
hall  sonorously  striking  twelve,  but  the  bottle  in 
his  trembling  hand  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  crash. 
For  a  long  time  he  stood  there,  petrified,  staring 
at  the  splintered  glass  and  the  dark  spot  on  the 
carpet.  But  there  was  more  of  it  somewhere,  if 
he  could  only  find  it.  It  would  ease  those  terrible 
beats  in  his  head  that  seemed  to  him  each  one  like 
the  last,  slow  stroke  of  eternity.  He  would  sleep, 
and  to-morrow  he  would  awaken  to  a  new  day, 
over  which  there  should  be  no  shadow  of  hover- 
ing horror. 

In  the  early  morning  his  little  child,  waking 
into  rapture  at  the  sight  of  his  father  kneeling  at 
his  side,  tried  to  awaken  him  with  light  lips  upon 
the  bent  head,  and  then  with  tender  protests  that 
grew  from  plaintiveness  to  bewilderment,  and 
finally  with  a  dread  he  could  not  understand,  he 
cried  aloud  in  terror. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"  AUNT  CECILY,  can  Satan  put  his  hand  up 
through  the  earth  and  pull  you  down  to  Hell?  " 

"  No,  dear,  no !  Whatever  made  you  think  of 
such  a  thing*?  "  Mrs.  Brand  straightened  herself 
pugnaciously  on  the  lounge  where  she  had  been 
resting,  but  before  she  could  say  anything  further 
Chrys  proceeded  reflectively,  "  Anyway,  it  is 
much  better  to  be  good,  because  then  your  heart 
beats  so  smooth  and  soft." 

"  Dear  child !  "  she  thought,  tenderly,  with  a 
passing  smile  for  the  baby-philosophy  that,  after 
all,  went  deeper  than  it  seemed.  It  was  Sunday 
afternoon,  and  the  cold,  December  rain  blew  in 
torrents  against  the  windows.  Mrs.  Brand  had 
been  asleep,  and  Chrys,  who  had  conscientious 
scruples  against  the  napping  instinct  in  his  elders, 
had  been  at  his  wits'  ends  to  furnish  entertain- 
ment for  himself  while  he  let  her  sleep,  according 
to  what  he  vaguely  felt  later  to  have  been  a  most 

330 


MRS.    BRAND  331 

ill-judged  promise.  She  had  thought  herself 
sleeping  until  she  had  heard  his  clear,  little  voice 
saying  in  a  tone  of  dangerously  patient  remon- 
strance, "  God,  this  is  the  third  time  to-day  I 
have  asked  you  to  stop  the  rain,  and  you  haven't 
done  it  yet." 

"  Chrys,"  she  said,  gently,  and  in  an  instant  he 
was  beside  her,  briskly  alive  to  the  opportunities 
of  renewed  companionship.  She  was  still  sleepy, 
and  she  found  it  difficult  to  keep  up  with  his  bril- 
liant leaps  from  one  subject  to  another,  but  Chrys 
had  his  own  persevering  methods  of  securing 
attention  to  the  topic  immediately  in  view. 

"  Let  us  die  to-day,"  he  said,  with  a  most  allur- 
ing expression  on  his  face.  "  Why  should  we  wait 
any  longer?  I  want  to  ride  my  Heaven-horse  so 
badly.  Let  us  go,  Aunt  Cecily." 

"  No,  darling.  There  are  so  many  things  God 
wants  us  to  do  down  here  first." 

"What4?  "  asked  the  child,  brusquely. 

Mrs.  Brand  hesitated  a  moment.  Then  she  said 
briefly,  "  Jim." 

"  Yes,  Jim."  The  little  face  softened  instantly. 


332  MRS.    BRAND 

"  Poor  Jim!    Aunt  Cecily,  why  does  God  let  Jim 
have  a  crippled  leg1?    I  wouldn't  if  I  was  God." 

"  I  know,  dear."  These  baby  questions,  they 
were  just  her  own,  after  all.  "  But  God  has  given 
Jim  a  most  beautiful  soul.  He  will  always  have 
that,  but  he  will  only  have  his  leg  a  little  while." 
She  often  felt  appalled  at  the  strange  twisting  of 
circumstances  that  had  forced  two  souls  into  her 
keeping,  Trixy's  and  this  child's.  She  felt  a 
responsibility  for  them  that  she  would  have  dis- 
dained for  herself.  From  the  moment  that  Chrys 
was  brought  to  her,  shocked  by  his  father's  death, 
she  had  set  herself  to  fit  this  experience  of  his  into 
a  natural  place  among  his  memories,  but  she  had 
many  a  heartache  over  the  premature  baptism  of 
this  sensitive,  little  spirit  into  the  sorrow  and  suf- 
fering of  the  world  before  she  succeeded,  and 
perhaps  her  methods  were  at  least  unusual.  She 
had  vivid  recollections  of  the  pallid,  palm-bearing 
wretches  who  had  figured  as  angels  in  her  childish 
imagination,  and  of  the  fearful  God,  caparisoned 
like  a  Greek  patriarch,  who  presided  over  their 
melancholy  performances.  No!  There  should 
be  no  such  travesties  of  the  Divine  Nature  to  per- 


MRS.    BRAND  333 

vert  the  tender  soul  of  this  little  one.  Like  all 
children  a  born  theologian,  Chrys  revelled  boldly 
in  the  mysteries  of  the  future  life,  and  Mrs.  Brand 
found  herself  compelled  to  furnish  the  most  defi- 
nite theories  concerning  it.  But  she  was  better 
able  to  do  that  now  than  she  would  have  been 
sometime  before,  for  from  the  day  she  had  gone 
back  to  Trixy  saying,  humbly,  "  I  do  not  know 
the  way,  but  we  will  find  it  together,"  she  had 
patiently  devoted  herself  to  leading  the  poor  girl 
into  the  only  path  that  seemed  to  promise  peace. 
No  pastor  could  have  searched  the  Scriptures  with 
more  zeal  than  she  did,  and  if  her  conclusions  were 
sometimes  strangely  at  variance  with  what  his 
would  have  been,  she  drew  them  from  the  self- 
same source.  She  watched  the  change  in  Trixy 
with  a  feeling  of  awe,  unconscious  of  the  tremen- 
dous effect  the  girl's  experience  was  having  upon 
herself.  She  had  begun  this  work  of  salvation 
in  another  in  a  strange  frame  of  mind.  At  first 
she  had  thought  of  appealing  to  some  outsider  for 
aid,  but  she  knew  how  Trixy  would  resent  such 
an  intrusion.  And  with  a  strain  of  scorn  in  her 
thought  it  had  seemed  to  her  that  if  the  Gospel 


334  MRS.    BRAND 

were  good  for  anything  it  could  surely  stand  her 
presentation  of  it.  She  was  disappointed  in 
Trixy;  she  had  thought  the  girl  made  of  stuff  like 
herself,  of  a  grain  fierce  and  fine  enough  to  hold 
itself  together  without  the  props  of  superstition. 
But  it  seemed  cowardly  to  desert  her  in  her 
extremity,  and  so  she  had  assumed  this  mission  of 
redemption  along  lines  that  she  despised. 

After  these  few  months  she  could  hardly  think 
of  it  without  tears.  For  in  that  bare  little  room 
she  had  stood  upon  holy  ground;  she  had  wit- 
nessed a  mystery  that  her  brain  refused  to  admit, 
but  towards  which  her  own  heart  yearned.  It 
was  the  same  old  experience  over  which  Aunt 
Lavinia  would  have  gloated,  as  she  complacently 
ticked  off  its  various  stages  with  the  crude  catch- 
words of  her  Calvinistic  convictions.  And  though 
there  were  moments  when  Mrs.  Brand  might 
argue  it  down  and  resist  the  basis  of  it,  she  could 
never  deny  her  part  in  it,  nor  its  hallowing  influ- 
ences upon  herself. 

That  Gospel  story  —  how  simple  it  had 
seemed  as  she  had  read  it  to  Trixy,  with  no  other 
thought  than  to  find  in  it  a  value  for  a  bruised 


MRS.    BRAND  335 

and  broken  life.  And  it  was  so  full  of  that.  There 
seemed  to  be  so  many  things  which  must  have  been 
written  just  for  Trixy.  Here  was  no  elaborate 
scheme  of  salvation,  no  creed,  rearing  its  hydra- 
headed  barrier  between  the  soul  and  its  home. 
For  Trixy's  sake  she  became  eager  to  seize  upon 
the  most  lovely  portions  of  the  story,  and  it  was 
small  wonder  that  there  came  times  when  her 
vivid,  unworn  recital  of  its  tender,  tragic  passages 
smote  them  both  into  silence  too  tense  for  speech. 
After  a  while  she  became  conscious  of  an  en- 
croaching audience  at  these  readings.  Little  Jim 
Moriarty  had  always  been  free  to  come  and  go 
as  he  pleased,  but  there  were  others,  poor  dumb 
drudges  of  women  who  stood  about  the  door  at 
times  with  an  expression  in  their  eyes  as  of  thirsty 
things  clustering  around  a  pool  of  living  water. 
And,  once,  there  was  some  one  else  who  had  come 
heedlessly  up  the  stairs,  and  then  stopped,  thrilled 
by  the  sound  of  her  voice  as  it  rose  and  fell  in 
vibrant  cadences,  which,  as  he  listened,  had  power 
to  fuse  into  one,  sweet  strain  all  the  aching  dis- 
cords of  his  heart.  Not  love  her*?  As  well  bid 
the  sun  cease  its  shining  as  to  try  to  stem  the  cur- 


336  MRS.    BRAND 

rent  that  swept  towards  her,  sweeping  his  stub- 
born scruples  out  of  sight.  For  he  had  told  him- 
self a  thousand  times  that  he  would  not  love  her; 
that  these  things  were  amenable  to  reason  would 
one  but  listen  to  its  mandates.  He  had  hotly 
argued  her  unworthy,  and  what  proof  was  there, 
indeed,  that  she  had  really  broken  with  Mr.  Over- 
holt  that  last  day.  None  but  the  dead  man's 
word,  a  wanton  trust  to  pin  one's  faith  to.  A  man 
who  had  braced  himself  for  months  with  the  most 
deadly  of  stimulants, — a  fact  that  had  been  amply 
demonstrated  after  his  death, — what  reliance 
could  one  place  upon  the  account  he  had  given  of 
her?  But  how  he  cherished  it!  When  he  had 
met  her  after  Mr.  Overholt's  death  she  had 
greeted  him  with  a  reserve  that  neither  asked  nor 
gave  anything,  and  as  time  went  on  the  stiffness 
of  her  manner  had  but  increased.  No,  it  must 
have  been  only  a  mad  trick  or  she  would  long  ago 
have  found  some  womanly  way  of  indicating  her- 
self to  him.  She  came  to  Brand  House  quite  often 
now,  for  in  that  crisis,  when  she  seemed  to  stand 
alone  the  target  for  every  base  rumor  with  which 
the  daily  press  rang,  she  had  sent  for  Mrs.  Me- 


MRS.    BRAND  337 

Garvey.  He  had  never  been  able  to  find  out  upon 
just  what  terms  the  intimacy  of  the  two  women 
had  rearranged  itself,  for  from  that  time  on  Mrs. 
McGarvey  manifested  a  most  provoking  reticence 
with  regard  to  Mrs.  Brand.  When  she  came  home 
after  the  events  of  that  dreadful  week  were  over, 
and  already  fading  out  of  the  fickle,  public  mind 
she  had  said  to  him,  severely,  "  You're  a  bad  boy. 
I'm  ashamed  of  vou." 

0 

"  Why?  "  he  asked,  astonished. 

"  Fiddlesticks !  "  she  retorted,  eloquently. 
"  You  know  why  well  enough." 

"  But  would  you  have  me  force  myself  upon 
her?  "  he  demanded,  indignantly.  "  You  know 
that  she  barely  tolerates  me." 

Mrs.  McGarvey  snorted  gently,  as  if  she  felt 
too  great  a  contempt  for  his  conduct  to  waste  her 
breath  upon  it. 

But  she  talked  quite  freely  of  Chrys.  "  Yes, 
she's  going  to  keep  him.  There  doesn't  appear  to 
be  anybody  else,  and  the  child  is  absolutely  desti- 
tute, what  with  his  father's  nice,  little  side  specula- 
tions and  his  debts.  How  the  wrangle  about  his 
insurance  is  going  to  come  out  I  don't  know,  but 


338  MRS.    BRAND 

I  guess  the  company  will  have  to  pay,  for  as  long 
as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  that  stuff,  and  had 
been  known  to  have  taken  too  much  before,  I  can't 
see  how  they  can  prove  suicide.  The  man  was 
a  villain,  but  for  the  dear  child's  sake  I  hope  they 
can  clear  his  memory  up  as  much  as  possible. 
He's  a  lovely  child  —  not  but  what  the  homeliest 
bairn  is  just  as  sweet,"  she  added,  with  a  tender 
rush  of  memory  backward  over  the  years  to  the 
little  ones  whose  red  hair  and  freckled  faces  had 
been  emblems  of  beauty  to  her  when  the  tide  of 
life  was  at  its  flood.  "  And  fond  of  her !  I  never 
saw  anything  like  it." 

"  He  always  seemed  to  me  a  vain,  spoilt,  little 
fellow,"  said  Dr.  Challoner,  hastily. 

Mrs.  McGarvey  smiled  tantalizingly.  "  I  sup- 
pose Mrs.  Brand  realized  that  her  taking  such 
prompt  charge  of  the  child  would  make  it  very 
difficult  for  her  to  convince  people  that  she  was 
not  intending  to  marry  Mr.  Overholt,"  continued 
Dr.  Challoner,  stiffly. 

"  Yes,  she  did,"  snapped  Mrs.  McGarvey, 
"and  do  you  think  she  cared4?  Lots  of  people 
offered  to  take  him,  but  I  tell  you  she  would  have 


MRS.    BRAND  339 

scorned  to  save  herself  that  way.  And  Mrs.  Crum- 
pet has  been  a  great  help.  She  publishes  far  and 
wide  the  news  that  she  regrets  Mrs.  Brand's  step, 
for  that,  of  course,  she  would  be  glad  to  do  her 
duty  by  the  child  whose  father  intended  her  to  be 
its  mother.  Mrs.  Crumpet  has  the  most  satisfying 
theories  about  the  whole  thing.  She  thinks  Mrs. 
Brand  is  really  at  the  bottom  of  all  those  reports, 
just  out  of  jealousy  because  of  Mr.  Overholt's 
preference  for  Mrs.  Crumpet." 

But  these  talks  had  taken  place  many  weeks 
before  that  wet  December  afternoon  when  Mrs. 
Brand  sat  with  the  dead  man's  little  boy  closely 
curled  up  beside  her  while  she  read  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress  "  to  him.  She  thought  it  a  dreadful 
book,  but  it  had  the  true,  aboriginal  instinct  for 
strong  effects,  and,  after  all,  it  was  the  mildest 
religious  stimulant  compared  with  Fox's  "  Book  of 
Martyrs,"  by  which  her  own  young  blood  had  been 
quickened  under  Aunt  Lavinia's  sway.  People 
had  grown  tired  of  wondering  whether  Mr.  Over- 
holt  had  committed  suicide  or  not,  whether  he  had 
poisoned  his  wife  or  not,  and  whether  Mrs.  Brand 
had  really  been  going  to  marry  him.  But  even 


340  MRS.    BRAND 

as  she  read  to  Chrys  the  dreary  refrain  of  some 
of  these  questions  kept  ringing  in  her  ears.  It 
seemed  to  her  sometimes  that  she  would  never 
conquer  the  humiliation  that  beset  her  in  regard 
to  Mr.  Overholt.  That  she,  who  had  prided  her- 
self on  her  ability  to  dispose  of  her  future  to  the 
best  possible  advantage  should  have  made  such  an 
absolute  fool  of  herself,  made  her  heart  hot  with 
shame.  And  Arthur  —  what  could  he  think  of 
her*?  Not  that  she  needed  to  wonder  about  that, 
for  his  opinion  was  clearly  made  manifest  by  his 
manner  to  her.  Once  she  had  questioned  him 
boldly,  asking  him  to  what  he  considered  Mr. 
Overholt's  death  directly  due.  "  I  really  cannot 
tell,"  he  had  replied,  ambiguously,  looking  coolly 
over  her  head  at  the  wall  beyond.  "  You  must 
remember  that  Mr.  Overholt  is  known  now  to 
have  kept  himself  up  under  the  strain  of  his  wife's 
illness  by  the  use  of  that  drug,  and,  besides,  the 
nurse  was  actuated  by  a  desire  for  revenge  because 

of  Mr.  Overholt's "     He  hesitated  as  from 

a  polite  wish  to  spare  her  references  that  must  be 
disagreeable.  "  Because  he  had  trifled  with  her 
sister,"  added  Mrs.  Brand,  quickly.  But  the 


MRS.    BRAND  341 

matter  had  dropped  there,  for  it  was  evidently 
not  his  intention  to  be  drawn  into  any  discussion 
that  had  Mr.  Overholt  for  its  subject. 

'  There,  dear,  see!  It  has  stopped  raining,  and 
the  sun  has  come  out.  Don't  you  think  you  would 
like  a  race  around  the  path  with  Darkey?  " 

She  stood  close  to  the  window  to  watch  the  fly- 
ing, little  figure  as  it  came  every  now  and  then 
around  the  curve.  Dear  little  Chrys!  He  was 
the  one,  sweet  spot  in  her  life  just  now.  To  be 
sure,  there  were  times  when  she  shrank  from  the 
thought  of  possibilities  the  years  might  bring  as 
they  forced  his  character  to  the  surface,  and  then 
her  only  hope  lay  in  her  belief  that  his  little 
mother  had  set  the  stamp  of  her  own,  simple  sin- 
cerity upon  her  boy.  He  had  certainly  inherited 
his  father's  peculiar  grace  and  charm  of  manner, 
and  she  winced  with  pain  sometimes  at  his  child- 
ish reproduction  of  some  well-remembered  gesture. 
There  remained  in  her  mind  no  clear  vision  of 
that  storm-swept  season  of  her  experience.  It 
was  a  blurred  and  hideous  nightmare.  And  then, 
sharp  upon  its  confused  clamor  there  had  come 
that  sudden,  tragic  silence  more  terrible  than  any 


[RS.    BRAND 

orror,   the  shame  of  it  all,  had 
through  her  sensitive  nature  like 
he  thought  of  the  man  himself, 
,d  and  enemy  alike  to  the  solitary 
ist  hours,  haunted  her  incessantly. 
of  his  uncertain  character 
or  those  who  thought  they  knew 
their  memory  of  him  there  was 
t  \  <  Id  a  sting.     But  when  stie 
of  his  deacons'  last  inter- 
her   pity  had  broken   forth  in 
.    They  had  badgered  him  in  the 
ke  a  red-handed  criminal,   with 

to  his  overwrought  conditi 
In  the  long,  still  hours  she  had  often  followed  him 
in  bitter  retrospect  until  he  found  peace  beside  the 
only,  little  being  in  the  world  who  had  implicit 
faith  in  him.  There  were  times  when  she  could 
not  forbear  the  belief  that  the  fault  was  hers  — 
that  if  she  had  herself  been  different,  if  she  had 
cared  less  for  the  most  contemptible  things  in  the 
world,  there  would  never  have  been  that  tragic 
chapter  in  her  history.  She  seemed  to  have  dipped 
her  hands  in  pitch  for  the  sake  of  snatching  some- 


MRS.    BRAND  343 

thing  that,  after  all,  did  not  belong  to  her.  What 
right  had  she  to  all  that  wealth*?  The  fierce  light 
that  she  had  turned  upon  herself  and  her  motives 
sent  its  long  illumination  back  into  the  dark  cor- 
ners of  her  life  as  John  Brand's  wife.  What  had 
she  given  the  old  man  in  return  for  his  proud  and 
tender  solicitude  for  her,  that  had  reached  out  in 
pathetic  effort  for  her  eternal  welfare*?  She  had 
given  him  nothing  that  she  could  by  any  possible 
means  withhold.  She  had  rated  her  youth  and 
beauty  extremely  high.  They  seemed  little 
enough  now  in  comparison  with  the  sterling  honor 
in  which  her  husband  had  held  her.  For  from 
the  moment  when  she  had  first  seen  Mr.  Overholt 
again  she  realized  now  that  her  mind  had  been 
absorbed  in  a  determination  to  rekindle  in  him 
the  old  fires.  Extenuating  circumstances'?  Per- 
haps, but  in  her  present  repudiation  of  the  woman 
who  had  been  herself  she  had  no  place  for  pleas 
of  that  sort. 

And  now  everything  for  which  she  had  been 
willing  to  barter  herself  was  slipping  rapidly 
away  from  her.  Her  home,  her  wealth,  in  a  few 


344  MRS.    BRAND 

short  weeks  all  the  external  trappings  of  her  ex- 
clusiveness  would  be  stripped  away  from  her. 

She  nodded  brightly  to  the  child  as  he  swept 
by  in  furious  pursuit  of  the  big  Newfoundland 
that  bounced  ahead  of  him  like  a  Brobdignagian 
baseball,  but  her  eyes  were  dim  with  tears. 

How  humbly  she  had  watched  him  lately  in  his 
work  at  Brand  House.  How  she  had  learnt  to 
reverence  the  calm  simplicity  of  which  she  had 
often  made  light.  She  had  been  amazed  to  find 
what  a  place  he  had  already  gained  for  himself  in 
the  world.  "  I  tell  you,"  she  had  overheard  an 
enthusiastic  man  say  a  few  days  before,  "  he  holds 
all  the  unions  of  Chicago  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand.  Not  a  single  strike  could  be  declared  unless 
it  first  had  his  sanction."  How  absurdly  proud 
that  had  made  her  feel,  and  she  had  unconsciously 
beamed  upon  the  speaker  in  an  inexplicable  way 
that  made  him  suddenly  virtuously  reminiscent  of 
a  wife  and  seven  children  at  home.  She  had 
spoken  to  Dr.  Challoner  a  few  moments  after- 
wards, the  soft  glow  still  in  her  dark  eyes,  but  he 
had  answered  her  shy,  swift  sentences  with  slow 
and  ponderous  gravity.  But  while  he  talked  to 


MRS.    BRAND  345 

her  he  was  wondering  wildly  what  he  had  said  to 
her  last,  for  he  had  been  thinking  only  of  her 
white  hands,  dainty,  fluttering  things,  that  he 
longed  to  take  in  his  own,  strong  grasp,  and  her 
softly  curving  cheek  awoke  in  him  a  mad  longing 
to  lean  over  and  kiss  it,  reckless  and  defiant  even 
of  the  people  about  them.  Perhaps  had  they  been 
alone  he  might  have  done  that,  or  she  might  have 
broken  out  in  the  fierce  denunciation  of  him  with 
which  her  heart  was  hot  when  she  turned  coldly 
away  from  him.  What  was  it  that  he  wanted  of 
her*?  Did  he  expect  her  to  make  humble  apology 
to  him  for  her  past  wilfulness  and  ill-treatment  — 
yes,  shameful  ill-treatment  —  of  himself?  Well, 
she  never  would.  And  she  did  not  believe  he 
loved  her,  anyway.  Perhaps  he  was  impatiently 
trying  now  to  shake  her  off,  alarmed  and  disgusted 
at  what  Mr.  Overholt  had  told  him,  if  Mr.  Over- 
holt  ever  had  told  him  anything  of  the  kind.  She 
could  not  help  thinking  sometimes  that  he  had 
only  written  so  to  her  for  the  sake  of  paying  off 
a  few  of  his  own  scores. 

It  was  all  a  hopeless  tangle.    She  had  trampled 
her  opportunity  under  foot,  and  now  she  must 


346  MRS.    BRAND 

bear  the  consequences.  Clearly  he  did  not  care. 
He  knew  she  was  approaching  an  experience  that 
would  be  arduous  to  her,  and  yet  he  had  not  a 
word  of  sympathy  or  help  for  her. 

"  What  is  it,  dear?  "  she  asked,  as  Chrys  ap- 
peared, lagging  and  dejected  under  the  evident 
weight  of  some  serious  woe. 

"  You  see,  Aunt  Cecily,  that's  the  good  of  hav- 
ing four  legs  instead  of  only  two,  like  me."  He 
looked  down  at  the  inadequate  means  provided  by 
Providence  for  his  locomotion  with  utter  con- 
tempt. "  How  could  I  suspect  to  beat  Darkey  in 
a  race"?  Perhaps  if  two  boys  had  raced  him  to- 
gether —  then  there'd  have  been  four  legs " 

But  he  paused  with  such  instant  suspicion  of  this 
logic  in  his  pliant,  little  face  that  Mrs.  Brand 
laughed  and  caught  him  in  her  arms.  "  I'm  tired 
and  hungry,  Aunt  Cecily,  but  not  bread  and  butter 
hungry.  I'm  only  cooky  hungry,  Aunt  Cecily." 

11  So  am  I,  Chrys,"  she  said,  with  a  wistful 
smile.  "  I'm  only  hungry  for  just  the  thing  I 
want." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IF  Dr.  Challoner's  heart  sometimes  failed  him 
under  the  pressure  of  the  tremendous  task  that  he 
had  undertaken,  he  had  but  to  remember,  one  by 
one,  the  people  who  had  come  to  rely  upon  him 
as  the  barrier  which  stood  between  them  and  the 
industrial  Juggernaut,  heroes,  some  of  them,  in 
that  furious  struggle  for  the  crusts  of  existence, 
those  precious  crusts  for  which  even  human  lives 
were  deemed  a  poor  equivalent. 

So  many  responsibilities  had  grown  up  upon 
his  hands,  of  which  he  had  never  dreamed  when 
he  first  began  to  make  his  solitary  way  about  the 
hidden  plague-spots  of  the  great  city,  that  he  felt 
sometimes  indignant  at  the  frequent,  glib  reference 
to  himself  as  an  authority  on  social  questions. 
"  An  authority !  "  he  said,  impatiently.  "  It  is 
only  the  people  who  don't  know  anything  about 
this  newest  of  all  the  sciences  who  can  afford  to 
pose  as  authorities  upon  it."  Then  it  was  a  com- 

347 


348  MRS.    BRAND 

fort  to  go  back  to  the  simple  conception  of  his 
place  in  the  world  which  had  sent  him  first  among 
these  people  —  the  idea  that  there  were  some  for- 
gotten, unfortunate  ones  who  might  be  helped  just 
by  knowing  that  some  one  was  thinking  about 
them,  and  longing  to  find  a  way  of  making  their 
lives  more  bearable.  That  was  all  the  working 
theory  he  had,  but  it  was  enough,  and  he  was 
glad  to  take  refuge  in  its  simplicity  when  it  seemed 
as  if  he  were  in  danger  of  being  swamped  by  the 
modern  horror,  organization.  There  were  people 
who  seemed  bent  not  only  on  organizing  his  work, 
but  on  organizing  him  into  a  peripatetic  puppet 
for  the  delectation  of  those  happy  mortals  who 
put  in  their  time  between  now  and  eternity  in  a 
wild-eyed  search  for  new  sensations.  "  It  will  be 
just  lovely,"  said  a  sweet  society  leader.  "  I'll 
have  him  speak  in  my  new  Louis  Quinze  draw- 
ing-room, and  we'll  drape  a  background  for  him 
of  flags  of  all  nations,  and  then  we'll  put  all  about 
him  engravings  of  things  like  Marie  Bashkirt- 
seff's  Street  Arabs,  you  know,  and  that  kind  of 
thing.  And  I'll  wear  a  Louis  Quinze  gown  and 
look  demure,  and  Mrs.  High-Buffum  can  sing, 


MRS.    BRAND  349 

'  Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labor  '  —  there,  who 
says  I  can't  plan  something  real  serious  and  im- 
proving? " 

But  Dr.  Challoner  refused  to  consider  himself 
against  a  flag  background,  with  a  Louis  Quinze 
foreground,  and  even  told  the  dainty  sponsor  of 
the  scheme,  that  the  thing  he  most  dreaded  was 
an  epidemic  of  slum-fad  among  society  women. 
"  Better  keep  on  dancing,"  he  said,  not  unkindly. 
"  You  will  really  do  us  less  harm  that  way." 

But  his  position  as  head  of  an  enterprise  that 
was  destined  to  attract  widespread  attention  by 
reason  of  the  marked  success  of  some  of  its 
methods,  and  the  prominence  of  the  men  interested 
in  it,  subjected  him  to  publicity  from  which  he 
could  not  hope  to  escape,  and  at  last,  in  response 
to  a  serious  and  just  demand  for  more  definite 
information  regarding  the  work  in  Moon  Street, 
he  arranged  to  give  a  series  of  afternoon  talks  at 
Brand  House.  "  No,  I  will  not  go  to  them  to 
speak,"  he  said,  decidedly.  "  I  want  my  illustra- 
tions right  in  sight.  People  remember  better  with 
their  eyes  than  with  their  ears.  And  I  don't  want 


350  MRS.    BRAND 

to  talk  to  anybody  who  hasn't  interest  enough  to 
come  down  among  these  things." 

It  had  become  the  intention  of  Mr.  Brand's 
trustees  to  use  the  bulk  of  his  bequest  for  the 
building  and  endowment  of  a  manual  training 
school.  It  seemed  to  Dr.  Challoner,  when  this 
idea  first  began  to  take  root  in  their  minds,  that 
some  of  their  plans  were  on  a  very  broad  and 
far-reaching  basis,  and  before  long  he  realized 
that  two  of  them,  at  least,  had  no  misgivings  as 
to  the  financial  outcome  of  the  undertaking. 

"  No,  Brand's  money  would  never  do  all  we 
have  in  view.  I  think  you  and  I  will  have  to  piece 
things  out  a  bit,  old  lady,"  Mr.  McGarvey  had 
said  to  his  wife.  "  And  it's  only  the  wisest  kind 
of  a  Providence  and  his  duty  to  his  family  that 
keeps  Boyington  from  putting  in  every  cent  he's 
got." 

And  yet  what  a  drop  in  the  ocean  of  human 
misery  all  this  brave-sounding  effort  seemed.  Dr. 
Challoner  remembered  dens  called  homes,  where 
in  spite  of  the  most  vicious  influences,  tender 
human  affections  grew  and  blossomed  into  beauty, 
only  to  be  wrenched  asunder  because  there  was 


MRS.    BRAND  351 

not  bread  enough  to  hold  the  precious  spirit  in  its 
poor  starved  body.  There  was  the  little  one  who 
slipped  silently  away  for  lack  of  the  care  no  one 
dared  pause  to  give  it,  and  the  mother  whose  share 
of  the  scanty  meal  had  too  often  found  its  way 
into  the  eager,  little  mouths  about  her,  and  who 
loosed  her  fitful  hold  on  life  with  a  cry  of  anguish 
for  the  helpless  children  left  to  battle  with  it 
alone. 

"  After  all,  the  Turks  were  far  more  merciful 
to  the  Armenians  than  we  are  to  our  poor,"  said 
Dr.  Challoner  one  night  that  winter.  "  We  are 
never  sufficiently  humane  to  go  out  honestly  and 
slaughter  off  a  few  thousands.  We  prefer  slow 
torture  for  all  of  them."  He  had  come  in  late,  and 
had  sat  down  to  a  supper  that  Mrs.  McGarvey 
noticed  he  hardly  touched. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  asked.  "  Adolph  Heller?  " 
For  she  was  sure  something  special  had  happened 
to  stir  him  to  such  an  unusual  display  of  feeling. 

"  Yes.  When  I  went  in  there  to-day,  there  he 
sat  sewing  under  such  an  awful  strain  that  the 
blood  was  slowly  oozing  from  his  ears.  And  his 
wife  lying  there,  watching  him,  with  death  in  her 


352  MRS.    BRAND 

face!  But  he  must  keep  up  that  pace,  for  if  he 
can't  there  are  others  who  will,  for  a  while  at 
least!  And  yet  we  call  ourselves  a  Christian 
people !  " 

He  pushed  his  plate  away  from  him,  and  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  closing  his  eyes  with  a  sharp 
sigh,  as  if  he  longed  to  blot  out  the  pursuing 
memory  of  such  scenes. 

"  What  did  you  do*?  "  asked  Mrs.  McGarvey, 
after  a  while. 

"  I  just  took  that  cursed  work  out  of  his  hands, 
and  told  him  he  had  done  the  last  stitch  for  a 
while.  I  meant  until  his  wife  was  dead,  but  he 
doesn't  know  that.  I  left  them  so  happy,  for  the 
poor  boy  is  sure  she  will  get  well,  now  that  he  has 
time  to  care  for  her. 

"  But  first  I  sat  there  and  just  watched  that 
thing  until  it  had  burnt  itself  into  me.  I  never 
want  to  forget  it.  I  ask  God  to  avenge  his  poor 
upon  me  if  I  ever  do.  I  have  saved  Adolph  Heller 
to-night,  but  think!  There  are  hundreds  like 
him  in  the  city  to-night,  and  there  is  no  one  to 
save  them,  or  to  care." 

Mrs.  McGarvey  had  never  seen  him  so  shaken, 


MRS.    BRAND  353 

for  usually  he  preserved  an  exuberant  courage  in 
dealing  with  the  problems  about  him  that  had 
been  of  the  greatest  service  in  inspiring  his  less 
hopeful  followers. 

"  I  had  an  experience  in  that  little  room  —  a 
kind  of  baptism  into  the  pain  and  sorrow  of  the 
world."  He  looked  at  Mrs.  McGarvey  with 
misty,  glowing  eyes.  "  If  I  could  die  to-night  in 
the  most  awful,  the  most  cruel  way  that  could  be 
devised,  and  by  that  death  save  these  poor  ones 
from  their  lives  of  wretchedness  and  cruelty,  how 
gladly  I  would  die !  " 

Mrs.  McGarvey  cherished  that  hour  with  him 
among  her  most  sacred  memories,  for  it  seemed 
to  her  that  she  had  witnessed  the  entrance  of  a 
soul  into  its  highest  and  most  Christ-like  possi- 
bilities. 

A  few  days  later,  at  the  close  of  one  of  the 
afternoon  talks,  Mrs.  Brand  found  herself  the 
center  of  a  group  of  people,  old  society  acquaint- 
ances some  of  them,  of  whom  she  had  seen  little 
since  her  husband's  death,  who  were  eager  to  dis- 
cover her  own  attitude  with  regard  to  these  things. 

"  Don't  you  think  it's  going  to  make  these 


354  MRS.    BRAND 

people  terribly  discontented,  Mrs.  Brand1?  "  in- 
quired a  bright-faced  girl,  with  a  confident  belief 
in  her  ability  to  handle  any  topic  wisely  as  long  as 
she  was  gowned  in  the  "  latest." 

Mrs.  Brand  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  quietly. 
Then  she  said,  "  Are  you  never  discontented  your- 
self, Miss  Hilton*?  Is  it  any  more  a  crime  for 
them  to  be  discontented  because  they  have  noth- 
ing, than  it  is  for  us  because  we  have  so  much  we 
don't  know  what  to  do  with  it1?  Don't  you  some- 
times get  discontented  because  you  have  so  many 
gowns  you  really  don't  know  which  one  to 
wear4? " 

"Oh,  no;  not  discontented  —  just  tearing 
mad,"  said  the  girl,  with  her  sweet  laugh.  "  No, 
please  don't  say  another  word.  I  was  foolish  to 
ask  such  a  question." 

"  Not  that  I  admit  their  discontent,"  Mrs. 
Brand  went  on,  with  a  smile.  "  The  miracle  to 
me  is  their  patience.  Many  times  I  have  gone 
home  wondering  why  in  the  world  they  didn't 
blow  us  all  up." 

There  was  a  little  stir  on  the  edge  of  the  circle, 
and  Dr.  Challoner,  who  was  standing  near,  saw 


MRS.    BRAND  355 

a  lady,  white-haired  and  stately,  on  the  arm  of  a 
young  man,  perhaps  her  son,  making  her  way 
towards  Mrs.  Brand.  After  the  bustle  of  intro- 
ductions had  subsided  he  found  himself  watching 
Mrs.  Brand  curiously.  Her  voice,  sweet  and  yet 
so  subtly  charged  with  some  intensity  of  feeling, 
carried  her  words  beyond  the  silent  group  around 
her. 

"  You  wonder  how  I  first  became  interested  in 
these  things'?  Well,  of  course,  I  had  heard  a  great 
deal  about  them  from  Dr.  Chal loner,  and  I  had 
been  greatly  interested  always  in  the  artistic  pos- 
sibilities of  the  stories  he  told  me  —  some  of  them 
were  really  admirable  in  a  dramatic  way,  but  it 
never  occurred  to  me  that  there  was  anything  I 
ought  to  do  until  I  came  in  contact  with  a  young 
girl  who  was  lying  ill  in  one  of  the  tenements." 
A  swift  vision  of  Trixy  rose  before  her.  How 
could  she  go  on1?  But  something,  perhaps  it  was 
the  charming  by-play  between  the  young  man  and 
the  pretty  girl,  goaded  her  on  to  the  telling  of 
poor  Trixy's  story. 

"  This  girl  interested  me  from  the  beginning, 
and  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  interest  her,  for  she 


356  MRS.    BRAND 

allowed  me  to  do  a  great  many  things  for  her  that 
were  a  help  to  both  of  us.  But  it  was  a  long  time 
before  she  told  me  anything  about  herself.  She 
had  been  carefully  brought  up,  and  she  must  have 
been  a  lovely  girl,  for  her  charm  is  still  apparent. 
But  there  are  certain  rules  a  girl  like  Trixy  should 
never  transgress.  She  was  not  in  a  station  in  life 
that  entitled  her  to  be  pretty  with  impunity,  and 
she  had  neither  father  nor  brother."  Her  eyes 
swept  the  young  man's  face,  with  its  contemp- 
tuous smile,  for  he  was  thinking,  "  How  vulgar  a 
woman  can  be !  "  And  then  she  went  on  hur- 
riedly, with  hardening  voice,  "  Poor  Trixy' s  days 
are  numbered  now,  but  I  never  knew  until  last 
night,  when  she  called  it  aloud  in  her  delirium, 
the  name  of  the  man  who  must,  who  shall  yet  pay 
the  penalty  of  Trixy's  misery.  And  he  was,  as 
she  had  said,  what  we  should  call  a  gentleman." 
Her  lips  were  quivering  now,  but,  with  a  bow  to 
some,  and  a  few  graceful  words  to  others,  she  dis- 
entangled herself  from  the  men  and  women 
around  her,  and  moved  towards  Dr.  Challoner. 
In  a  moment  he  understood  the  mute  appeal  of  her 


MRS.    BRAND  357 

eyes,  and  without  a  word  he  quickly  led  the  way 
to  the  shelter  of  the  deserted  dining-room. 

"  Was  it  wrong*?  "  she  asked  of  him,  humbly. 
"  I  could  not  keep  it.  I  should  have  despised  my- 
self forever  if  I  had  been  afraid  to  speak.  I 
should  have  been  a  coward." 

"  I  know.  I  honor  you  for  what  you  said." 
Her  eager  face,  lifted  to  his,  lost  its  troubled  look, 
and  she  smiled,  with  the  angry  tears  still  standing 
in  her  eyes. 

"  You  see,"  she  went  on  in  a  voice  so  tremulous 
now  that  the  need  for  self-restraint  was  passed, 
"  I  could  not  bear  to  see  him  there,  hovering  like 
a  hawk  about  that  pretty  girl " 

"  Ah,  that  was  it,  was  it4?  "  said  Dr.  Challoner. 
"  I  did  not  know,  —  one  could  not  tell  that  you 
were  speaking  directly  to  any  one." 

From  the  rooms  beyond  came  the  dense  hum  of 
many  voices  that  seemed  to  hem  them  in  with 
walls  of  living  sound,  there,  alone,  and  he  so 
near  to  her  that  each  fluttering  breath  of  hers 
seemed  to  him  as  if  it  were  his  own. 

"  But  I  do  not  mind  as  long  as  you "  He 

could  not  bear  it,  this  sudden,  sweet  dependence 


358  MRS.    BRAND 

upon  him,  and  in  another  moment  the  crowding 
tide  within  would  have  burst  the  barriers  he  had 
so  stringently  set  for  it.  But  Mrs.  McGarvey, 
sweeping  heedlessly  into  the  room,  followed  by 
that  species  of  mortal  whose  chief  accomplishment 
consists  in  being  thirsty  at  the  most  inopportune 
season,  unconsciously  wrecked  the  climax  that  it 
had  been  her  most  cherished  dream  to  promote. 
But  that  did  not  prevent  her  remarking,  with  the 
complacency  of  a  marplot  to  Mr.  McGarvey  that 
evening,  that  she  had  always  known  how  it  would 
be  from  the  beginning,  and  that  she  really  be- 
lieved it  needed  just  a  word  —  her  word  —  to 
straighten  the  whole  thing  out  satisfactorily.  Mr. 
McGarvey  ventured  a  feeble  doubt  about  this, 
which  entailed  upon  him  such  a  fusillade  on  the 
subject  of  male  creatures  in  general,  that  he  retired 
precipitately  among  his  thoughts,  and  stubbornly 
stayed  there,  in  spite  of  his  wife's  efforts  to  draw 
him  out.  You  can  not  persuade  a  mouse  out  of 
its  hole  by  shouting. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Brand  began  her  first  defi- 
nite arrangements  towards  leaving  her  home.  The 
trustees  had  as  yet  said  nothing  to  her  about  it, 


MRS.    BRAND  359 

and  she  appreciated  their  reserve,  but  it  placed  the 
burden  of  initiative  upon  her,  and  she  shrank  with 
the  utmost  dread  from  any  possible  discussion  of 
the  matter.  There  were  times  when  she  longed  to 
repudiate  the  last  cent  of  dependence  upon  Mr. 
Brand,  but  how  could  she  do  that,  freighted  as  she 
was  now  with  the  up-bringing  of  a  little  child"? 
And,  after  all,  she  had  been  his  wife ;  he  had  come 
into  her  life  at  its  most  critical  point  of  develop- 
ment, and  had  bent  all  her  possibilities  in  his  own 
behalf. 

She  walked  through  the  beautiful  rooms  one 
after  the  other,  making  a  swift  inventory  of  the 
things  that  under  the  terms  of  the  will  she  could 
justly  claim  as  her  own.  When  she  was  back  in 
her  own  sitting-room  she  revised  the  list  in  a  numb 
kind  of  way,  and  then  sat  there  staring  at  it 
blankly.  After  all,  what  did  she  care  about  any 
of  it*?  This  house,  upon  which  she  had  expended 
her  utmost  skill  until  every  room  bore  the  imprint 
of  her  exacting  taste  in  color  and  design,  what 
happiness  had  it  brought  her  in  the  waste  and  arid 
years  that  she  had  spent  in  it,  those  years  when 


360  MRS.    BRAND 

she  had  proudly  assumed  that  her  heart  could  be 
satisfied  with  the  beauty  that  entranced  her  eye*? 

The  memorandum  fluttered  to  her  feet,  and  lay 
there  forgotten.  A  loathing  for  her  surroundings 
arose  in  her.  A  vision  of  herself  and  Chrys  walk- 
ing away  out  of  it  all  into  some  fresh  and  honest 
future  rose  up  in  her  mind  and  seemed  sweet  until 
some  subtler  thought  for  which  her  heart  had  no 
words,  gave  a  cruel  and  jagged  edge  to  her 
dreams,  and  filled  her  eyes  with  tears.  The  an- 
nouncement of  a  visitor  put  an  end  to  her  arduous 
reverie. 

"Miss  Hilton?  Bring  her  in  here,  Jane,"  she 
said,  for  she  had  an  instant  feeling  that  this  visit 
was  to  be  anything  but  a  conventional  one.  The 
picture  of  the  happy  girl,  lifting  her  tell-tale  eyes 
to  the  sated  gaze  of  the  man  beside  her,  had  been 
a  rankling  memory  to  her  since  yesterday,  and  she 
was  full  of  pity  for  the  charm  that  was  destined 
to  be  its  own  destruction. 

"  Now,  what  is  it  you  really  want  to  talk  to 
me  about"? "  she  said,  gently,  after  they  had 
played  an  unavailing  game  of  pitch-and-toss  for 
some  minutes. 


MRS.    BRAND  361 

The  girl  laughed  with  an  air  of  relief.  Then 
she  said,  shyly:  "  Oh,  if  I  could  only  tell  you  just 
what  I  thought  I  could  before  I  came !  " 

"What  is  it?  Something  about  Mr.  Sanger, 
perhaps,"  suggested  Mrs.  Brand. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  replied  Miss  Hilton,  with 
a  bright  blush.  "  Perhaps  you  don't  know  —  oh ! 
of  course  you  don't,  that  they  all  want  me  to 
marry  him,  his  people  and  mine,  I  mean  —  and 
I  think  he  wishes  it  himself,"  she  added,  wistfully. 

"  And  you1?  "  said  Mrs.  Brand,  gently. 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  shall  marry  him,  I  suppose, 
but  there  are  things  I  don't  feel  happy  about." 

"  My  dear,  if  you  are  quite  resolved  to  marry 
him,  I  should  think  the  less  you  think  of  those 
things  the  better,"  said  Mrs.  Brand,  gravely.  "  If 
you  accept  him,  it  must  imply  accepting  them." 

"  Yes,  but  I  want  to  be  sure  just  how  much  it 
is  that  I  have  to  accept."  A  weary  shadow  crossed 
the  bright,  young  face,  and  the  pretty  mouth 
straightened  into  a  line  that  betokened  other  and 
less  alluring  feminine  qualities  than  Mr.  Sanger 
undoubtedly  counted  on  in  the  woman  he  had  sig- 


362  MRS.    BRAND 

nified  himself  as  willing  to  endure  with  matri- 
mony. 

"  Something  he  said  to  me  yesterday,  after  you 
had  told  us  about  that  girl  —  oh !  I  have  had  all 
kinds  of  thoughts  ever  since." 

There  was  a  little  pause,  for  Mrs.  Brand  was 
not  willing  to  speak. 

"  It  is  just  this,"  the  girl  began  at  last,  desper- 
ately, "  I  only  want  to  know  that  you  know  noth- 
ing, —  don't  you  see  that,  putting  together  what 
he  said  to  me,  with  wondering  why  you  told  us 
that  story,  —  oh !  I  only  want  to  know  that  he  was 
not  that  man." 

"Why  need  you  care*?"  asked  Mrs.  Brand, 
abruptly. 

"I*?  Care?"  repeated  the  girl,  in  surprise. 
"  Why,  of  course  I  care."  She  looked  at  Mrs. 
Brand  with  some  indignation. 

"  But  you  have  never  expected  him  to  have  a 
standard  of  conduct  at  all  approximating  your 
own  for  yourself.  You  have  taken  it  for  granted 
that  he  might  do  with  impunity  what  would  be 
fatal  to  you." 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Hilton,  slowly.     "But  it's 


MRS.    BRAND 

different  when  one  is  only  generalizing."  Then, 
with  a  quick,  vindictive  change  of  tone,  she  added, 
"  But  one  does  expect  more  of  a  woman  than  of 
a  man  in  that  way." 

'  Yes,  I  am  quite  willing  to  admit  that.  And 
it  is  partly  because  of  that  instinctive  demand  that 
a  woman  shall  realize  and  set  the  ideal  of  purity, 
because  her  penalty  is  so  great  when  she  does  not. 
And  while  there  is  a  growing  insistence  that  there 
shall  be  one  standard  of  morality  for  men  and 
women,  it  seems  to  me  sometimes  as  if  some  very 
good  men  and  women  were  really  advocating  a 
uniformity  of  license  for  man  and  woman.  That 
tendency  accounts  for  the  false  sentimentality 
talked  and  written  about  the  fallen  woman  just 
now.  Poor  Trixy  is  a  fallen  woman,  and  she 
knows  it,  however  charming  she  may  have  been 
and  still  is." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  assented  Miss  Hilton, 
warmly,  "  and  you  say  that  she  had  been  brought 
up  carefully,  so  that  it  must  have  been  her  own 
fault." 

Mrs.  Brand's  eyes  flashed.  "  Her  bringing  up 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  but  you  never  have 


364  MRS.    BRAND 

been  and  you  never  will  be  wooed  with  the  ardor 
and  subtlety  that  won  poor  Trixy.  The  man  who 
asks  you  to  be  his  wife  is  tolerable  certain  of  secur- 
ing you.  You  apparently  think  that  he  asked  of 
Trixy  what  was  most  precious  to  her  with  the  same 
mild  eagerness  with  which  he  asked  you  to  be  his 
wife." 

The  girl  flushed  deeply.  "  Then  you  think," 
she  faltered,  after  a  while,  "  that  one  should 
refuse  to  marry  a  man  because  he  had  ever  failed 
in  that  way." 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  said  Mrs.  Brand,  slowly. 
"  That  would  be  cruel,  I  think.  I  am  not  a  be- 
liever in  Eternal  Punishment,  you  see,  and  I  think 
it  quite  possible  for  even  so  self-indulgent  a 
creature  as  a  man  to  repent  of  sin,  and  be  done 
with  it.  The  question  just  turns  on  that." 

"  And  yet  if  the  cases  were  reversed,  he  would 
not  marry  me,  no  matter  how  repentant  I  was." 

"  No."  Mrs.  Brand  thought  for  a  few  minutes. 
Then  she  said,  "  Nobody  can  calculate  the  benefit 
to  the  world  of  a  rigid  standard  of  purity  for 
women.  The  standard  for  men  can  never  be 
improved  by  lowering  the  standard  for  women, 


MRS.    BRAND 

and  women  know  that.  All  through  the  ages  they 
have  been  struggling  to  lift  men  up  to  their  own 
standard.  And  some  time  they  will  succeed." 

As  Miss  Hilton  rose  to  go  she  said,  with  affected 
flippancy :  "  Well,  one  might  give  up  a  man  be- 
cause one  happened  to  find  out  something  about 
him,  and  then  marry  another  who  was  just  as 
bad." 

A  tender  feeling  of  pity  surged  over  Mrs. 
Brand  as  she  looked  at  the  girl  whose  heart  was 
still  fresh  and  sweet  with  the  dews  of  youth,  but 
whose  lips  already  bore  the  taint  of  a  vicious 
philosophy.  She  laid  her  hands  gently  upon  the 
young  shoulders.  "  I  have  not  talked  to  you  about 
Trixy,"  she  said,  looking  straight  into  the  clear 
eyes  that  quickly  hid  themselves  from  her,  "  be- 
cause I  can  not.  But  I  can  say  that  I  am  afraid 
you  do  not  realize  the  character  of  the  man  who 
wishes  to  marry  you." 

The  girl's  lip  curled.  "  No,  I  don't,"  she  said, 
drily,  "  and  recommendations  from  his  last  place 
are  not  required, —  at  least  by  mother  —  his  bank- 
account  is  all  that  could  be  asked." 

After  she  was  gone  Mrs.  Brand  went  back  to 


366  MRS.    BRAND 

her  memorandum.  But  the  impetus  necessary  to 
carry  her  through  her  task  was  gone,  for  she  could 
not  banish  from  her  mind  saddening  thoughts  of 
the  girl,  across  the  fair  Eden  of  whose  life  the 
serpent  was  busy  prospecting  his  trail.  "  For  of 
course  she  will  marry  him.  Ultimately  she  will 
tell  her  mother  all  she  has  learnt  from  me,  and 
Mrs.  Hilton  will  be  horrified  at  my  vulgarity,  and 
the  girl  will  be  hurried  and  worried  into  marry- 
ing him.  And  then  the  avenging  of  Trixy  will 
begin." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"  I  WISH  I  was  an  iceberg,"  sighed  Chrys, 
wearily. 

"  I'm  afraid  you'd  find  it  very  cold,"  laughed 
Mrs.  Brand. 

"  But  you  see,  Aunt  Cecily,  they  don't  have 
any  work  to  do  at  all,  only  to  keep  still  and 
make  ice  for  ice  cream." 

"  And  what  work  have  you  to  do,  I'd  like  to 
know?" 

"  Why,  Aunt  Cecily,  I've  been  working  all  day 
trying  to  fix  my  old  engine,  and  it  won't  fix,"  said 
the  child,  tearfully.  "  I'd  like  to  go  up  to  Heaven 
and  trade  it  off  onto  God  for  a  thousand,  thousand 
marbles.  Then  I'd  be  borned  over  again  with  a 
good  start.  And  now  there  is  nothing  that  makes 
me  happy.  Jane  boiled  my  egg  upside  down  for 
breakfast  this  morning;  I  know  she  did,  Aunt 
Cecily.  And  Miss  Lee  says  I  haven't  any  Dandy 
up  in  Heaven  at  all,  and  that  it's  very  naughty 
to  believe  such  things." 

367 


368  MRS.    BRAND 

Mrs.  Brand  smiled  at  this  pathetic  accumula- 
tion of  disasters,  but  she  cuddled  the  little,  desolate 
figure  up  in  her  arms,  and  when  at  last  she  went 
away,  she  left  Chrys  fully  convinced  that  Miss 
Lee  at  least  would  never  have  a  horse  to  ride  in 
Heaven,  for  which  she  was  much  to  be  pitied. 
And  as  it  was  satisfactorily  proved  that  the  egg 
had  been  eaten  right  end  up,  it  was  conceded  that 
the  upside-down  boiling  might  as  well  be  over- 
looked. 

She  was  on  her  way  to  Moon  Street,  where  she 
had  spent  most  of  the  last  week,  for  the  sands  of 
Trixy's  life  were  nearly  run  out  now.  When  she 
reached  the  bare,  little  room  she  found  one  of  the 
busy,  over-burdened  mothers  in  the  tenement  sit- 
ting beside  the  bed. 

"  'Tain't  much  longer  you'll  have  to  be  sittin' 
round  here,"  she  said  encouragingly  to  Mrs. 
Brand,  as  she  paused  a  moment  at  the  door  before 
going.  "Why,  I  wouldn't  give  that  for  her 
chances  to  get  through  the  night,  and  Dr.  Chal- 
loner  said  as  much  himself  this  morning." 

"  Poor  Trixy !  "  said  Mrs.  Brand. 

"That's  all  very  well,  my  dear,"  with  a  pat- 


MRS.    BRAND  369 

ronizing  tolerance  for  one  whose  views  on  the 
mysteries  of  life  and  death  could  not  be  expected 
to  be  other  than  sentimental,  "  but  if  you'd  had 
a  husband  and  ten  children  a  draggin'  on  you  for 
a  score  of  years  you'd  be  glad  every  time  there 
was  a  little  more  breathin'  room  for  somebody." 

Mrs.  Brand  knew  better  than  to  misunderstand 
this  rigidly  practical  view  of  the  case,  for  the 
woman  who  voiced  it  had  one  of  the  kindest  hearts 
that  ever  beat.  It  was  simply  the  crude  utterance 
of  that  philosophy  from  which  in  the  slums  there 
can  be  no  escape. 

Left  alone,  she  hunted  up  the  work  that  she 
always  kept  on  hand  there,  and  as  her  needle  flew 
in  and  out  of  the  coarse,  little  frock,  her  eager 
thoughts  kept  pace  with  it.  She  looked  around 
the  room  with  a  pathetic  sense  of  coming  change. 
It  was  here  that  she  had  entered  into  the  great 
depths  of  unselfish,  human  experience,  here  that 
sin  and  suffering  had  first  made  themselves  poig- 
nant realities  to  her,  for  the  cure  of  which  some- 
thing more  was  demanded  than  a  down  pillow 
and  a  glib  prescription  for  regeneration. 

She  got  up,  and  leaned  over  the  bed  to  look  at 


370  MRS.    BRAND 

the  still,  sleeping  face.  The  glow  and  curve  of 
radiant  youth  were  gone,  but  in  their  stead  was 
the  flowering  forth  of  the  soul  in  its  beauty. 
There  was  an  exquisite  smile  upon  the  pallid  lips 
as  of  one  seeing  visions  not  of  this  world.  For  in 
these  last  days  the  weak  gates  of  flesh  seemed 
powerless  to  imprison  the  ardent  spirit  that  had 
so  often  bruised  itself  against  them,  but  which 
now  ventured  unafraid  beyond  them. 

It  was  a  miracle  to  her,  this  new,  this  regenerate 
Trixy,  who  dwelt  with  the  joyful  anticipations 
of  a  sainted  seer  upon  the  time  when  she  should 
behold  "  the  King  in  His  beauty."  Was  it  all  the 
delusion  of  a  fevered  brain  of  which  disease  had 
destroyed  the  delicate  balance*? 

What  a  blank  it  would  make  in  her  life  when 
Trixy  was  gone!  For  she  had  grown  to  have  a 
real  affection  for  the  girl  to  whom  she  had  min- 
istered so  long,  and  whom  she  counted  it  now  her 
privilege  to  have  understood  so  well.  Her  life 
seemed  suddenly  to  stretch  out  before  her,  an  infi- 
nite waste  of  years  to  be  filled  in  as  well  as  might 
be,  perhaps  in  fitful  effort  for  these  people.  For 
she  knew  many  of  them  now,  better  than  anyone 


MRS.    BRAND  871 

else  did,  and  she  had  a  grim  perception  of  the  fact 
that,  without  any  invitation  on  her  part,  there  was 
a  harvest  waiting  for  her  hand.  A  career"?  —  she 
might  have  it  for  the  choosing,  but  ah,  no !  That 
was  not  what  she  craved. 

There  had  been  no  sound  in  the  room,  but  all 
at  once  she  felt  an  insistent  demand  upon  her,  and 
she  lifted  her  head  to  meet  Trixy's  wide,  clear  eyes 
fixed  upon  her  with  an  intensity  of  expression  that 
was  heightened  by  the  perfect  stillness  of  her  face. 

"  What  is  it,  dear?  "  Mrs.  Brand  asked,  gently. 

The  girl's  face  lit  up  with  sudden  animation. 
"  Listen !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  loud,  clear  whis- 
per. "  They  will  soon  come  for  me,  and  before 
I  go  we  must  sing." 

"  Sha'n't  we  wait  for  Emmy? "  asked  Mrs. 
Brand,  with  a  thought  for  the  toiling  sister  whose 
opportunities  had  been  submerged  for  the  sake  of 
this  one.  At  the  same  time  she  felt  a  pang  of 
alarm  at  the  sense  of  being  alone  in  such  a  crisis, 
for  she  had  never  seen  death.  It  was  growing 
dark,  and  she  rose  to  light  the  lamp,  wondering 
desperately  what  she  should  do  if  someone  did 
not  come. 


372  MRS.    BRAND 

"  Emmy  knows,"  said  Trixy,  softly.  Just  what 
she  meant  was  not  clear,  and  in  another  moment 
she  had  begun  to  sing  in  a  thin,  quavering  voice, 
her  favorite  hymn.  She  seemed  upborne  by  some 
mysterious  accession  of  strength,  and  in  response 
to  an  insistent  pressure  of  her  hand  Mrs.  Brand 
joined  in  the  singing,  her  full  contralto  mingling 
strangely  with  the  weird,  sharp  notes  of  the  dying 
girl. 

Trixy  lay  with  her  head  thrown  back  upon  the 
pillows,  a  rapt  upward  gaze  upon  her  face,  for  she 
was  thrilled  with  the  exaltation  of  an  experience 
so  full  of  meaning  to  her,  and  the  dramatic  fervor 
of  her  voice  defined  itself  vividly  against  the  mur- 
mured harmony  of  the  other  as  they  sang  the  long 
hymn  through  to  the  end. 

No,  this  could  not  be  death,  this  strong,  vehe- 
ment utterance  of  the  soul's  most  ardent  longings. 
But  even  as  the  thought  came  to  Mrs.  Brand  the 
singing  ceased,  and  a  strange,  pulsating  silence 
filled  the  room  like  the  darkening  peace  before  a 
swiftly  moving  storm.  The  fictitious  strength 
that  had  sustained  Trixy  was  suddenly  gone,  and 
she  lay  with  closed  eyes,  the  breath  coming  in 


MRS.    BRAND  373 

light,  uncertain  gasps  through  her  parched  lips. 
Already  there  had  been  breathed  upon  her  the 
mysterious  and  indefinable  change  of  expression 
that  spiritualizes  even  a  sinful  face  in  death,  and 
with  the  awe  of  that  transformation  upon  her 
Mrs.  Brand  sank  to  her  knees  beside  the  bed. 

Trixy  was  speaking  again  in  a  faint,  broken 
whisper. 

"  Pray !    I  want  you  to  pray,  now !  " 

Instinctively  Mrs.  Brand  shook  her  head.  "  Oh, 
Trixy,"  she  said,  "  I  cannot." 

But  as  a  look  of  agony  came  into  the  wide,  dark 
eyes  so  entreatingly  fixed  upon  her  face,  she  felt 
a  creeping  shame  at  her  refusal,  and  in  a  moment 
more  she  had  crushed  herself  out  of  sight,  and 
coerced  her  faltering  lips  into  prayer. 

It  was  not  until  the  first,  crude  sentences  were 
passed  that  she  quite  realized  what  she  was  doing. 
But  a  rush  of  pity  filled  her  heart,  and  it  became 
not  so  hard  a  thing  to  take  this  bruised  and  broken 
life  that  had  missed  its  way  in  this  world,  and  give 
it  into  the  certain  keeping  of  One  who  came  to 
seek  and  to  save  those  who  were  lost.  As  she  went 
on  she  gathered  strength  and  assurance,  for  this 


374  MRS.    BRAND 

did  not  seem  like  the  thing  she  had  called  prayer. 
The  room  was  charged  with  a  warm,  responsive 
Presence  that  she  did  not  need  to  see. 

Her  voice  sank  at  last  into  silence,  but  she  knelt 
there  without  moving.  Trixy's  fingers  still 
grasped  her  arm,  but  they  had  lost  their  tense 
grip,  and  upon  her  poor,  wan  face  rested  the  glory 
of  the  illumination  from  afar. 

Mrs.  Brand  never  knew  how  long  she  knelt 
there,  but  at  last  the  sound  of  a  step  upon  the 
threshold  roused  her,  and  she  rose  up,  trembling 
and  shrinking  even  from  the  dull  light  in  the  room. 
Dr.  Challoner  stood  opposite  her,  looking  down  at 
Trixy.  He  shook  his  head,  and  then  came  quickly 
around  the  foot  of  the  bed  to  Mrs.  Brand. 

"  And  you  —  you  have  been  here  all  alone?  " 

She  nodded,  for  it  did  not  seem  to  her  that  she 
could  speak.  The  intonation  of  his  voice,  deep 
and  tender,  stirred  in  her  a  thousand  wild  emo- 
tions. And  she  was  quivering  from  the  strain  of 
the  experience  she  had  just  undergone.  Her  chin 
began  to  tremble  like  a  little  child's.  With  only 
a  thought  of  her  need  of  him  she  held  out  her 
hands  to  him  pleadingly. 


MRS.    BRAND  375 

"  Arthur!  "  she  cried. 

And  suddenly  out  of  the  mystery  of  death  arose 
the  mystery  of  life. 


THE  END 


A     000  121  071     5 


